


Balancing Acts

by Applepie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, 幽☆遊☆白書 | YuYu Hakusho: Ghost Files
Genre: Crossover, Demon Hunters, Demon Summoning, Gen, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Kurama's step family, Mission Hogwarts, Post-Black Chapter Saga
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 16:16:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 37,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3816838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Applepie/pseuds/Applepie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With the threat of demons attacking Hogwarts, the Spirit Detectives have a new mission. Turns out there's more to Kurama's family than expected when he discovers his cousin Harry Potter. ...and what's this? Voldemort's doing a ritual to summon demons? Oh dear, now they've called in a Wizarding Demon Hunter. How will the Detective boys survive without being found out?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Cousin

**Author's Note:**

> So, I realised this fic wasn't crossposted here. Oops.
> 
> YuYu Hakusho timeline: after end of the Black Chapter Saga (After the fight with Sensui). However, in here, King Enma decided to let his son hire Yusuke and group once more.  
> Harry Potter timeline: start of his sixth year.

Up in the sky, far along the River of Styx, a castle lays hidden amongst cotton lined clouds. There is a sense of peace and quiet in the air here, where the living never frequent. The dead have passed by the castle, marveled and awed at its exterior, but never given the privilege to set foot in such a sacred place. It is the home to the Rulers of the Spirit World, ground worthy to only the Royalty themselves, their ferry girls, servant ogres, and selected few.

Those bestowed the honour of a visit, let alone dozens of visits, are who one would expect to be elegant and special in every sense of the word.

"Oh  _hell_  no! Suck it! I'm going home!"

Well,  _special_ is one way of putting it. This particular  _honoured_  guest is special in every negative connotation associated with the word.

Immature, brash, idiotic, and impulsive were just a few choice words Koenma, the young Prince of the palace would describe the sixteen-year-old boy who's exclamation echoed through his chambers. "Yusuke," Koenma warned, harsh tone lacing the word so indiscreetly, it coloured it in fire. "You have no choice to disobey."

"Suck it!" the raven-haired teenager repeated, fist thrust in the air to accentuate his point. "You want to send me to  _school_  for a mission! An English school! I'll fight any brawl you give me, heck give me another Dark Tournament! But  _school!_ You can't make me," Yusuke declared in what certainly was more of a sulk than anything else – not that the self-proclaimed delinquents would ever admit to it.

It was a common sight to see Yusuke arguing adamantly with the baby-like ruler, as strange that scene may seem to those unknowing of the baby's actual age. Those who were in the castle knew – you likely weren't an invited guest if you didn't know about the toddler-like Prince. As such, beside Yusuke, a redhead and a shorter male with a star-burst patterned hairstyle paid them no heed, other than irritated glares at all party present from the latter.

Short stubby fingers kneaded at the temples in a motion that looked far to adult on a toddler, even if said toddler was in fact over three-hundred years of age. "It's final, Yusuke," Koenma said blandly.

"No it's not! Anyways, I'm already in school. The name Sarayashiki ring any bells?" the teen said, much too condescendingly, "Keiko will get on my case again if I stop coming.  _You_ want to deal with her bitchiness?"

Koenma's eyebrow arched, rising just below the seam of his cap. "Already in school?" he parroted in disbelief, his blue pacifier bobbing as he spoke, "You hardly ever attend."

"Hey!" Yusuke stabbed a finger at Koenma, movements as graceless as ever, "I  _have!_ "

"I assume we have Keiko to thank for that?" the redhead, Kurama, murmured teasingly, a soft smile on his lips. Beside him, Hiei scoff, tapping his toe. Kurama spared him a glance, a shrug, and a 'be patient, the Detective will stop complaining soon enough' look that required no verbal form of communication.

Yusuke never noticed, only shuddering at his private memories. "Hell, that girl is scary." But despite this insulting declaration, his expression and words were not one. Actions spoke louder than words, and Yusuke's love and fondness for Keiko shrouded over his brusque statement in a large, thick blanket. Then, Yususke drew back his scowl once more, shedding his gentle expression as he remembered the topic on hand. "You can just forget about your stupid mission!" he snapped at the Prince.

" _Yusuke,"_  Koenma growled at the boy, frustration and annoyance weaved in each word.

He was, of course, ignored. "Where's Kuwabara anyways?" Yusuke continued, looking around the room for the burly figured teen who was his team-mate and brother and everything in between. "I don't see why he gets to sit this one out. That's  _not_   _fair_."

"He's busy."

Yusuke's face knotted into a scrunch. "With  _what?_  I'm busy too, but no-o, you had to drag me here."

"He's been studying. Unlike  _someone here_ , he actually cares about his future. With the help of his sister, Kuwabara is slowly raising his grade to be able to apply to university." Koenme held onto Yusuke's gaze sternly for a second, trying to make a point, before Yusuke broke it with a huff.

"Oh, come on," the raven-haired delinquent scoffed, throwing up his arms in exasperation. "I'm a Demon Lord now, you know, heir of Raizen, one of the three rulers of the Makai, and all? I'm too cool for school."

Memories bubbled beneath the surface of Koenma's mind as the Spirit Prince recalled the day they found out Yusuke's demon heritage. He could remember his father's Special Defence Force standing around Yusuke lying cold on the ground. He could still vividly recall the swirling oppressive aura that the half-demon had then emitted as he rose from what the Prince had thought was death.

Nothing and everything changed from that moment on. King Enma wanted Yusuke expelled as Koenma's Spirit Detective and dead. Koenma stood up to his father with words stronger than he's ever emitted aimed straight at the towering giant who was King over everything dead. It was a first for Koenma fighting so obstinately for something he wanted, caring little for his father's grand authority or any subsequent punishment.

Perhaps that was why King Enma finally yielded, allowing his son to reinstate Yusuke instead of declaring him a national threat for being the direct descendant of the Mazuku.

But sometimes, when Yusuke was this stubbornly frustrating, Koenma almost wished he never bothered begging his father anything of the sort. "This is non-negotiable," the toddler Prince snapped, eyes narrowed into a glared. When the detective looked like he was going to keep arguing, the Prince at last decided to pull out his last card. "Besides," he said as idly as he could, trying to not to sound too smug, "don't forget who exonerated you from certain death?" The  _'you owe_ me' was much too loud despite the fact the words had not been verbally spoken. "Anyways, as a condition of your freedom, I'm holding you responsible for your little speech in front of my father's hunters."

Yusuke scratch his head, "Er, what speech was that?"

"The one before you chased after Sensui;  _'I'm Yusuke Urameshi, fearless protector of the good stuff with a healthy kicking ass streak,'_ blah, blah, blah, '... _and nothing as trivial as a violent death or a few drops of demon blood mixed in with mine is going to keep me from helping out my friends and saving the world and kicking the bad guy's ass,(1)'_ " Koenma recited word for word. The SDF had told the story over and over again as part of King Enma's investigation on Yusuke before giving his decision to Koenma's pleads. It was, perhaps, one of the key elements that changed King Enma's mind.

Yusuke scoffed, his words meaning less to him than it had for his Boss. "I believe during your ' _blah, blah, blah'_  I mentioned, and I quote ' _... a healthy kicking ass streak and a_ general hate for authority' _(1),"_ he said.

Eyes rolling, Koenma only shrugged, "Nevertheless, you're still saving the world, and nothing's going to keep you from doing that, right?" Koenma pointed out, in self-satisfaction.

"But it's still  _authority figures_  that I need to deal with in school. Don't cut that off from my grand speech!" the boy rebutted, muttering what sounded like words of hate under his breath.

Koenma rubbed his face with an irritated sigh. "Look, you're going and that's final. You don't see those two whining about this do you?" he snapped, jerking his head to a bemused Kurama, and a viciously grouchy Hiei. The shorter demon's ruby red eyes were still drawn in a glare, and Koenma had no doubt that the demon would turn it towards him if he didn't get Yusuke to stop his infuriating sulking. "I've already given you the general outline of the Hogwarts mission. Other than Yusuke, do either of you have any issues with it?" Koenma asked, targeting his question on the two demons. At their shake of the head (or a lack of response from Hiei), the Prince nodded in finality, ignoring Yusuke still shouting in the background. "Then that is all. Until the start of the mission – September first – you are free to prepare however you like," he dismissed.

Yusuke stomped towards the large oak doors of Koenma's office. "For the record, I still hate this!" Yusuke yelled as Hiei disappeared from sight. Kurama was on his way to join the raven-haired teen, only to be stopped by Koenma's orders.

"Kurama, stay behind for a moment."

Kurama paused. "Of course," the teen replied smoothly, retracting his leg in a graceful motion. His emerald eyes tracked the backs of his teammates as they left, watching as Botan chase after Yusuke who was still grumbling under his breath. Only when the doors of the Spirit Prince's office click shut did the teen snap his eyes back onto the toddler behind the messy oak desk, towering with unread paper. "What can I help you with, Lord Koenma?" Kurama inquired with a tilt of his head.

With an approving nod at Kurama's professionalism – a  _huge_  contrast to Yusuke just a second ago – Koenma pulled out a folder from his desk. "I'm afraid you have an additional mission that preceeds the one I just assigned," Koenma said, watching Kurama's expression curiously.

Kurama hummed thoughtfully, "And what does this mission entail?" he asked cautiously. No matter how discreetly Koenma was observing him, the kitsune had a far keener eye than most, and yes, he noticed the Prince of the Dead was much too interested in his reaction.

"Are you aware you have any living relative?" Koenma asked abruptly.

Kurama furrowed his brow, uncertain where this tangent was leading towards. "As Youko, or as Shuuichi?"

"Shuuichi, and other than your mother."

There was a pregnant pause as the redhead scourged his mind for an answer. "Not that I am aware of," the teen finally replied, eyeing the Prince contemplatively.

"None on your mother's side?" Koenma continued to probe.

"Not at all," was Kurama's final answer. "However," the teen added a second later, "I  _do_  know she was adopted…" He trailed off, suddenly realising how little he knew about his mother. Kurama loved Shiori for giving birth to his human body and loving him unconditionally despite the moodiness of a thousand-year-old fox demon stuck inside a toddler's body. And yet, with so much going on in his hectic life, more so after meeting Yusuke and being sent on probation work, and above all trying to be the perfect son to make his mother happy, he hadn't paid much attention to his beloved mother's past. Especially since she never spoke much of it. And now that Kurama thought about it, while Shiori had albums upon albums of childhood pictures of him, he never saw any of hers, except perhaps one or two, here or there.

Koenma nodded knowingly. "Then this may come as a surprise to you," Koenma said, going straight into business. "I am sending you to England – a little area called Surrey – to protect you cousin."

From the timing of this mission, Kurama had a feeling it was connected to the mission to Hogwarts. But in that case, since Koenma had told them Hogwarts was a wizarding school, then didn't that mean his cousin was … a  _wizard_? Then was his mother one too?

And somehow Kurama doubted he was asked to protect his cousin just because they were family and Koenma wanted his family to be safe - it was more than that.

To answer his enquiring gaze, the Prince nodded, knowing exactly what Kurama's expression was asking. "You are correct. The thing is, remember the boy at Hogwarts I asked you all to pay special attention to during your mission?"

"Harry Potter," Kurama replied slowly, as slow sinking suspicion forming. The boy who had lived against all odds of the killing curse, and ended up as The-Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen one, the one on the top of the Dark Lord's hit list, and the one everyone was banking on to defeat said Dark Lord. The boy with the whole world on his sixteen-year-old shoulders.

"Yes; your cousin," Koenma confirmed.

Kurama let out a sigh. "Of course he is," the teen said dryly. Trust his whole family to be anything but ordinary. He was a demon fox, his mother was possibly a witch, and his cousin was The-Boy-Who-Lived. Kurama almost feared what secrets his step-father and step-brother were hiding.

"I have sent a letter to his house in advance posing as a teacher from your high school, Meiou, informing them you have an international scholarship in a boarding school in England. I added that you had casually mentioned about relatives living around there, and as a busybody teacher that I am, I wanted you to spend some time there before the start of school to get a feel for England and to rekindle your long distance relationship." Kurama chuckled at that, as Koenma continued, "Harry Potter lives with his Aunt and Uncle. Just the other day, I finally received a letter back allowing your stay."

"When should I prepare to departing for Surrey?" the redhead asked.

"Immediately," Koenma replied. "I have prepared things on England's end of things, but everything else is up to you. You might want to do something about your school and family."

Kurama nodded his thanks, rubbing his chin thoughtfully as he pondered what to say to his mother. For one thing, the truth was out of the question. Unless of course, he somehow managed to find a way to explain his knowledge of his cousin. Up until today, he'd never even heard the name Harry Potter from his mother's mouth. Bringing up his name would only confuse mother, if not make her suspicious of where he got his information from. As much as he hated lying to Shiori, it seemed like another excuse was in order.

With a silent nod to Koenma as the Spirit Prince dismissed him, Kurama headed for Botan who cheerfully escorted him back onto the face of earth. He was halfway out the office when Koenma suddenly tossed a book at him from behind. The teen caught it easily. "Read this," Koenma called over quickly just as the door slammed shut.

* * *

It was well past evening when Kurama finally made his way home from Meiou High, finally finished dealing with the school administrators. His mother, Shiori Minamino, was preparing dinner in the kitchen as Kurama's steady steps echoed towards her. The woman looked up from the chopping board, curiosity lightening up to pleasure as she saw her precious son, Shuuichi. Well, one of them, anyways. Things did get confusing when both of her boys were called 'Shuichi'.

"I'm just getting dinner started," Shiori said sweetly over as Kurama neared her. "Why don't you go up to your room? I'll call you down when I'm done."

Kurama gave a disapproving smile. "Mother, how many times have I said I would love to help?" The redhead pulled his hair up into a ponytail as he slipped on an apron and commandeered the knife and vegetable from his mother's hands.

"Thank you, dear," Shiori said, moving to the oven to heat up a pot of water, "but it's not that much work today. Your father and brother aren't going to be eating with us today. Shuichi-chan has his secret extracurricular lessons," the woman said conspiringly with a wink.

Kurama laughed. His step-brother, Shuichi, was a cute kid. When Kurama first noticed and asked about his disappearing off with father a couple days a week, the boy had shuffled his feet on the ground with his head ducked and murmured something about lessons. Father finally took pity on the boy and told them Shuichi was embarrassed that he was taking extra lessons and hadn't wanted to tell them about it. In Kurama's opinion, Shuichi looked more nervous than embarrassed, like he was afraid of what Kurama would do if he found out. Kurama didn't think he was that scary of an older brother, and he definitely wouldn't have teased the boy too mercilessly about it. Then again, if Kurama was being immodest, he  _was_  the  _perfect_  son – he actively strived to be one for mother – and perhaps that was what made Shuichi nervous when dealing with him.

The four of them had been a happy little family, but perhaps once Kurama was gone to England, Shuichi would finally find the courage to open up more to mother, no longer feeling like he was hidden in his brother's shadow. That would surely make Shiori happy – the woman had always been fretting if Shuichi liked her or not.

"By the way, Mother," Kurama called out as he chopped the carrots, "I've been meaning to tell you for a while now, but it'd always slipped my mind: I've applied for an international studies programme - full scholarship. Just today they've announced that I've been accepted for one of the few seats available."

The woman gasped excitedly, "No way! That's amazing Shuuichi! Where is it?"

Kurama offered his mother a pleased smile. "Around England," he said vaguely, before quickly moving on, "it's a boarding school, thankfully, so I don't have to worry about finding a place to stay. Unfortunately, it seems if I want to make sure my boarding room will be available, I have to leave as soon as possible," Kurama lied apologetically. "I've booked my flight the moment I heard I'd been accepted. My plane leaves first thing tomorrow."

"Oh!"

"I'm sorry for the late notice, Mother," Kurama said, laying a hand on her arm to ease her worries. "It's no problem is it? All travel and boarding expenses are fully paid by the scholarship so you don't have to worry a thing about it."

"Oh, no no. No problem," Shiori said quickly. "It's just… I'm going to miss you when you're over there."

Kurama smiled gently at her. "But Mother, you'll have Father and Shuichi-chan," he said lovingly. "If anything,  _I'll_  be the lonely one." Kurama gave a deliberate pause as Shiori let out a small giggle at her boy and pulled him into a hug. "You wouldn't happen to know anyone living around England, would you?" he enquired innocently, "I'll be glad to pass on any messages you have."

In his mother's hug, Kurama could feel Shiori stiffening at his question. The air around them was gloomy for a second before Shiori pushed off from Shuuichi, her face deceptively calm. "I'm afraid I don't know anyone there," she said softly, sadly, "Not anymore." Shiori closed her eyes briefly before shaking her head and pulling herself out of her funk. "Well anyways," she said, voice slowly building up to cheeriness once more, "if that plane's going to leave tomorrow, then don't you think you should get packing?" The woman waved her son up to his room in shooing motions. "I'll prepare dinner while you're doing that, alright?"

"Yes Mother," Kurama replied dutifully, striding up the stairs, knowing to let the topic die if that was what she wanted. "Thank you."

"I'll drive you tomorrow, Shuuichi dear," Shiori called up from the kitchen, "If your father comes home early enough tonight, we'll celebrate before you leave! If not, you know he's proud of you, right? And Shuichi-chan's going to miss you so much."

"Thank you Mother, if it's not too much of a hassle," Kurama replied again before pulling out bags to pack up, "And I'm sure Shuichi will be just fine without me – he'll have you to take care of him."

* * *

The plane ride and cab ride to Kurama's new living area – the Dursley house, if Kurama recalled properly – was nothing of significance. It was long and grueling as all modes of transportation were, strapped onto a moving metal contraption. Perhaps it was the demon blood in him, but the redhead longed to travel by foot, running the miles with the wind in his long, flowing, silver hair.

The journey there was long, and the sky was dark by the time Kurama made it to the airport in England. He'd found a cab to take him to the Dursley house, seeing as the residents were too busy to pick him up. There was something sour at that fact, but the redhead paid it no heed. He supposed he couldn't complain seeing as they were already willing to house him for the next couple months.

The neighbourhood of the Dursley residence was unusually cloned. Each house looked nearly identical to the next, if it weren't for the self-planted flowers that were unique to each neighbour. Kurama counted down the rows, ending in the gold plate of Number Four.

The cab slowed to a halt in front of it. "Thank you, sir," Kurama said, paying the taxi driver. The driver nodded wordlessly, counting his change, before he drove away, leaving the redhead to haul his luggage behind him.

And just like that, barely what seemed like a day after leaving Japan, Kurama was in front of his cousin's house. Harry Potter, the most recognised wizard in Britain; the cousin he never knew. Kurama didn't know what he was expecting when he rang the doorbell to Number Four Privet Drive. But whatever it was, the redhead was quite certain it was not the loud trampling, nor the stocky child who knew no sense of etiquette as he leaned right up to Kurama's face to scrutinize him. It was at that exact moment that Kurama would later on recall briefly contemplating agreement with Yusuke on one fact of the mission: he wasn't sure he was going to like it.

Apparently, Kurama passed whatever test the boy in front of him had, for the child finally leaned back. "What da'ya want?" the boy drawled out, like Kurama personally annoyed him, while beadily eyeing Kurama's red hair in distaste.

Kurama's inner demon was hissing in outrage at his behaviour. The vain kitsune that was Youko snarled at the boy's audacity, especially considering the over-weight, contemptible mess that was the blond's appearance and behaviour. Outwardly, Shuuichi only stiffened, face holding indifference. "Is this the Dursley residence?" he asked nonchalantly.

"Yeh."

"And you might be … ?" the Kurama enquired, encouraging the conversation.

"Dudley. Dudley Dursely. Who're you?"

"Shuuichi Minamino," Kurama offered, "I believe your parents have gracefully agreed to my intrusion of your home for the duration of summer break?"

The boy, Dudley, scrunched up his face in thought. "Oh, right. Er, welcome. I hope you enjoy Little Whinging," he said plainly, as if reading from a rehearsed script. Clearly the boy couldn't care less. Kurama couldn't either for someone like Dudley.

Regardless, Kurama nodded with a smile. "Thank you," he said politely.

Within the house, a female voice called out. "Dudley dear, who's at the door? Your dinner's getting cold."

The blond's eyes lit up, racing back into the kitchen, leaving Kurama by the open door. "It's that Suchi guy!" Dudley yelled as he ran. Kurama winced at his mangled name.

"Who, dear?" the woman, likely the mother, asked again.

All Kurama heard back from the boy was mumbling and spitting sounds as he spoke through a mouthful of food. Somehow, he was understood, as a second later, a tall woman hurried to the front door. She gasped when she saw Kurama. "Oh," was the only word she seemed able to say, staring at Kurama with wide eyes as she took in his appearance.

Seconds later, another person entered the room. This one was a man, wide much like a walrus, and eyes that seemed perpetually irritated at the world. "I thought you said you were going to fetch the Shuchi boy from the front door, Petunia," he said, walking up to them. "Come in, Shuchi."

"Shuuichi." Kurama corrected pleasantly. "Shuuichi Minamino. It's a pleasure to meet you. Uncle Vernon Dursley, was it, sir?" He turned to the female hovering by the side of the room, "and Aunt Petunia," he greeted.

Petunia's eyes softened at Kurama's smile, but still, she seemed miles away, remembering things long forgotten in the past. Kurama could only wonder what of his appearance had shocked her so much. "I hope the plane here wasn't too tiring," the woman finally said.

"Well, I  _am_  quite tired, I admit," Kurama said agreeably.

Vernon let out a loud cough to gain Shuuichi's attention. "Our spare guest room is being used by our nephew. The boy," the man's mustache twitched as he pressed his lips into a frown at the thought of it, "took up the space. So I'm afraid you'll have to share with him."

"That's quite all right," Kurama said amicably. "Speaking of which, where is my cousin?"

It was quite well hidden, but there was a slight stiffing of the man's back, and even paling, before the man forced out a smile. "Ah, of course, but he's down-right rude. He hangs out with the wrong crowd, and he's in a school for those horrible criminals - St Brutus." Vernon warned quickly. When Kurama didn't react with anything but an soft ' _Is that so?_ ' the man seemed to run out of fuel and finally turned up towards the top of the stairs, a yell on his lips. " _Potter!_  Get down here and greet your cousin!"

* * *

Upstairs in his room, Harry smiled as he heard his uncle call for him. He had been waiting for this moment ever since his Uncle dragged him to the living room by the ear days ago to lecture him about hiding his 'freak stuff' because they were housing guests. Or more specifically, housing  _his_  cousin – muggle, apparently. It  _had_  surprised him the Dursley would let anyone related to him into their 'normal' house, but then again, it wasn't like the Dursleys were inhuman. Just big, prejudice bullies, he supposed.

And perhaps the fact that his cousin was muggle, and apparently intelligent enough to be selected for a scholarship in an elite boarding school helped matters even more.

His aunt had briefly explained that his cousin was from his father's side – Shuuichi's mother was adopted, apparently, and he was completely clueless about the wizarding world – before pushing him into his room to clean. The whole time, and even now, Harry couldn't rid of that giddy feeling inside his chest. For the longest time, Harry thought he was all along with no one but the Dursleys to call family. Apparently that wasn't the case! Harry didn't care that Shuuichi was a muggle – family was family after all. And if Shuuichi wasn't as small-minded as the Dursleys, then all the better.

* * *

Footsteps slowly descending the stairs were what alerted Kurama of his cousin's arrival. As the boy came into view, Kurama was first and foremost greeted by a pair of emerald green eyes, so weary for his age that Shuuichi was instantaneously reminded of himself. That was where the similarities ended. Harry Potter was a scrawny boy, short and meek for a sixteen-year-old. Then again, first impressions were not always correct – for the boy to have allegedly survived the Dark Lord more or less six times, there was hidden strength and courageousness in the boy.

Harry ran a hand through his messy raven locks, successfully tangling his hair into even more of an untameable mess than before. "Uh, hi," the boy said nervously.

Kurama spied the vicious lightning bolt shaped scar just below his cousin's hairline as hair displaced over his forehead from the movement. From what Kurama remembered, it was  _the_  scar; the cursed mark that signified Harry's survival to the killing curse, apparently due to Harry's mother's sacrifice. That, sadly, was as much information Koenma had given them about that particular topic. Kurama would've preferred more, but nevertheless. Kurama smiled at the boy. "My name is Shuuichi Minamino. You must be Harry."

"Harry Potter," the boy answered immediately, "Nice you meet you."

"It's a pleasure to meet you too."

As nice as greetings went, it seemed that Vernon had no patience for such things. Tapping his foot, he frowned at both boys. Only tapping his wrist could make his expression even clearer, but both boys could understand what the man wanted before things got that far. "Why don't I show you to my room?" Harry declared, jogging up the stairs once more. "First room to the left."

"Oh yes, of course," Kurama replied, "Just let me grab my stuff…"

Harry stopped halfway with a surprised gasp, turning around, "Sorry! I'll help you bring it up!" he cried, clambering down the stairs once more.

Kurama waved the boy off. Surprisingly, Vernon did the same. "Go make sure your room is clean, Potter," Vernon said, in a pointed voice, with a very pointed look. Harry seemed to understand immediately, quickly slipping away without another word. Kurama had an odd feeling it was an exchanged centered around the wizarding world that he supposedly didn't know about.

"Well then, I'll be heading up now," Kurama said, hands already securing around his luggage after he gave an obligatory pause - long enough for Harry to do whatever it was in his room that Vernon had wanted.

Before he could leave, Vernon leaned in, almost like he was confiding Kurama in a dreadful secret. "Potter's a bit of a freak," Vernon said. "He also lies a lot to get attention. If he gets up to his nasty tricks again, feel free kick him out of the room."

Kurama's smile strained, but he forced it to stay on. He was slowly understanding the dynamics of this family, and he was hating it more and more."I'll keep that in mind, sir," he said before slowly striding out of the room and up the stairs. Even though Kurama hadn't known about Harry until only the day before, that was his cousin there. He couldn't just stand by if this was how he was being treated. If Shiori ever found out, she would back him up (and that point only begged the question why she denied she had relatives over here. Did she truly not know, or did she have something against Harry as well, much like Vernon?).

Arriving at Harry's room, he knocked on the door, opening it up just in time to see Harry putting away … a  _broom_?

Kurama spoke up, forcing Harry's head to snap over, realizing his company. "You sweep the carpet?" asked Kurama indicating towards the broom. Perhaps fairy tales did have truth in it; witches and wizards do ride brooms. Kurama was still too sorely uninformed of everything that went on in the wizarding world.

Harry blush at being seen putting away his equipment. "Uh, it's nothing that exciting. I just always keep my broom in there ... and stuff," he ended lamely. Harry looked at Kurama's bags, quickly changing the topic. "Do you want to sleep on the bed? I don't mind being in the sleeping bag."

It was a quick and obvious topic change that stood out so blatantly Kurama could almost feel himself cringing for the kid. At least he tried, Kurama supposed. "I'm the guest here, Harry," Kurama responded to the boy's question, "I should be the one sleeping in the sleeping bag. I don't mind."

"But it's fine by me too. Whenever I sleepover at my friend's I always take the floor!"

Shuuichi interrupted him with a wave of his hand. "No buts," he said firmly, "I'll feel guilty if you don't let me," the redhead lied, because that was the polite thing to do.

Harry rubbed his head awkwardly, uncertain if he should continue insisting or if that would make Shuuichi feel even guiltier. In the end, the raven-haired boy finally shook his head in defeat. "Uh, well, alright, if you really don't mind," he conceded, helping Kurama roll out his sleeping bag, and pile it onto the floor for his cousin. When Kurama looked like he had arranged things to his liking, Harry climbed up into his own bed.

Kurama slipped into the sleeping bag a second later. "Goodnight, cousin," he said softly, hearing the words echo back at him from Harry.

Soon, the lights in the room were turned off and they both fell into slumber, neither of them knowing what tomorrow would bring.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) The whole quote is from episode 91 of English dubbed version


	2. The One with Red Hair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quality may go down near the end because I got bored of editing. Sorry not sorry.

Sunlight greeted the neighbourhood of Surrey at the crack of dawn. In the house with the gold fixture of Number Four on its door, up on the first floor, a young teen stirred. Sun beams shone through the large window in the bedroom he was in. The paper thin curtains were worthless against the glowing ball of fire in the sky.

While the sun only continued to rise further, a pair of emerald green eyes finally fluttered open. The rays of light tattooed across him through the cracks of the hastily pulled curtains. It lit his face with a greater and greater intensity like nature's alarm clock, signaling the glorious start of a brand new day.

It was with a soft moan on his lips that the emerald eyed teen finally sat up. The warmth that had gathered in his covers overnight slowly dissipated into the cold, open room. He took a deep breath, arms gracefully pulled above his head in a stretch.

"Morning already?" the teen murmured.

With another pop of his back, the teen pulled himself out of his sleeping bag. He moved silently across the carpeted floor until he managed to settle himself by the ledge of the window. He nudged a side of the curtains aside, careful not to rattle the empty birdcage hung in front of it.

There were soft, brilliantly white feathers littered on the cage floor which the teen took to observing. Owl, perhaps, Kurama guessed, drawing from all he remembered in his old life living in the wild outdoors.

He hummed thoughtfully to himself at new piece of information, perhaps just slightly wistful at the lack of iconic black cats and bats. Yes, he really wouldn't mind seeing a bat or two.

Kurama turned outside. The early birds were chirping in the distance. The golden-yellow sun cast its magic on the morning dew, creating a glistening field of lawn in front of every building.

And in the house of number four, the teen with magic finally stirred. Harry sat up quickly in bed, as if honed by instinct, as his hand snapped out to grab his owl-round glasses from the the bedside table.

The redhead by the window watched, only reacting once the other teen's glasses were worn, knowing only then would Harry be able to see him. Kurama cocked his head apologetically in a practiced movement. "Did I wake you, Harry?" Kurama enquired softly, "I apologise."

Harry rubbed his eyes, adjusting to the bright light. He crawled off his warm bed with half a stumble as he made his way clumsily towards the window. "No, you didn't wake me, Shu-Shuuichi. I should be up by now anyways," he mumbled out, fumbling over his cousin's name.

Shuichi smiled and moved aside for Harry. "Most boys your age aren't early risers," Kurama commented.

Harry frowned, "You're my age."

With a shrug and a tilt of the head, Kurama laughed as he answered. "Well, I've always been an exception," the redhead confided cryptically.

Perhaps there was something a little more to his words, but Harry couldn't understand it. He could only take the sentence on face value. "Me too," Harry agreed, after a little while of thought, "I'm a bit different from my friends … but that could be a, uh, cultural thing."

"Really?" Kurama encouraged.

Harry, of course, knew better than to mention anything concerning the oddness that was the wizarding culture, no matter how dearly he might have wanted to. "Yeah," he said instead, "we grew up differently."

Kurama hummed noncommittally.

Harry bit his lip nervously, uncomfortably feeling like he was letting his cousin down by being so vague. "So, uh, I like your hair," he blurted out a second later. Perhaps he was trying to praise the redhead to cheer up the low mood that seemed to envelope the two of them, but the timing was off, and the statement was so abrupt that it was nothing more than an embarrassment. It did, however, make Kurama chuckle from the sheer innocence that was Harry. The awkwardness that were sixteen-year-olds were always a source of amusement.

"Thank you," Kurama said, still chuckling under his breath. "I'm glad you like it. I've been mistaken as a female well enough from it."

Harry's blush was more than telling. Kurama arched an eyebrow at the boy and Harry ducked in response. "Sorry!" he cried out with a giggle. It seemed he  _did_  also mistake Kurama when they first met. "But I realised when you spoke!" he added hastily, to show he  _was_  somewhat competent at telling genders apart. The amused twinkle in Kurama's eyes, had Harry pressing his flushed face against his hands. "Seriously, can we talk about something else now?" Harry pleaded, mortified.

With politeness ingrained into him, Kurama conceded, letting the poor boy off the hook. "Alright, anything in particular?"

Harry perked up eagerly at the invitation. There were a lot of things the teen wanted to know - there were an endless possibility of things to ask the relative he didn't even know he had, to make up for the years they'd lost apart. "What school did you go to?" Harry began curiously, trying not to let it sound like the start of a long, long interrogation on his part. "And I heard something about a scholarship – that's why you're here?"

Kurama nodded. Even without the expert skills he'd acquired in his time as Youko, he could've easily woven answers to please Harry's questions. Lies were second nature to Kurama, hidden within hints of truths so beautifully that one couldn't tell one from the other. "I am studying in Meiou High, a local highschool in my home neighbourhood," he said smoothly, "I applied to an international studies scholarship programme, and luckily ended up as one of the accepted participants. I vaguely recalled I had relative around here and I must have mentioned it to the advisor because days later he came up to me and told me he'd gotten in contact with Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon! While I can't deny I'm embarrassed for intruding into your family before my boarding finally begins, I'm actually quite pleased to finally meet you, Harry."

Harry grinned, feeling warmth at the pit of his stomach at Kurama's honest words. It was great to know he wasn't the only one looking forward to this meeting. "You're not intruding. I'm glad you're here!" As for why Uncle Vernon would like Shuuichi stay despite his intrusion into the house, Harry supposed it was a way to get him to stop messing around with his wizarding equipment. With his cousin here, Harry knew better than to leave things in sight, a fact that Vernon would take full advantage of. Not to mention Shuuichi must be smart in order to receive a full international scholarship – Vernon knew the benefits of establishing and keeping worthy contacts.

Harry didn't like how his cousin was more or less being used by his relatives, but he couldn't really do much about it.

It was then his door rattled as his Aunt knocked furiously on it. "Harry! Get up this instant, Boy! Just because your cousin is here is no reason for you to slack off on your chores! Do you want him to show him how irresponsible you are?" the woman called through the door.

"Err." Harry looked a bit frantic, no doubt humiliated at his aunts words, in front of his cousin no less.

" _Are you listening to me, Potter_?"

Harry shoved himself off the ledge he was perched on, quickly standing up. "Sorry," muttered the raven-haired boy, glancing at the time in surprise. "I'm in charge of breakfast," he apologised, scurrying off.

With an arched eyebrow, Kurama followed after the boy. There was nothing else to do in the room, after all (except snoop through Harry's thing, of course, the Youko in Shuuichi muttered. But since he still didn't know much about wizards, he'd prefer to put it off in case there was some sort of curse in place. How dull.)

Sometimes, when Kurama was bored, he wished Hiei was here with him, despite how moody and quiet of company the fire demon may be. The fire demon was someone he could talk to as an equal. However, considering he had  _persuaded_  Hiei to watch over his family while he was away from Japan, he supposed Harry's company would do. The boy was equal parts awkward and docile, but there was a fire that burned beneath his emerald green eyes. Kurama couldn't wait to see the soul that lied underneath that unassuming demeanor.

* * *

Breakfast was a quiet affair.

Kurama sat uncomfortably in front of his Aunt and Uncle as Harry slaved away in front of the stove. All of his attempts to get up to help were rejected by both Harry and the other two. Harry insisted he shouldn't exert himself, being his guest and all, while his Aunt and Uncle demanded him to let Harry finish his chores alone so as to not let Harry become lazy. And so, Kurama had to endure small talk with his Aunt and Uncle.

Dudley, it seemed, was yet to be up yet. Kurama wasn't particularly pleased with the favouritism that seemed to be present in this household (really, Vernon, Harry was the lazy one?), but he knew better manners than to point it out.

Breakfast was over soon, sped by Harry's quick culinary skills. Not soon after, Vernon left for work with a peck on the cheek to his wife, and Harry disappeared off back into his bedroom, claiming he had to finish up his summer homework. Dudley, still, wasn't up yet. This left Petunia and Kurama in the kitchen alone.

Petunia got up to wash the dishes from breakfast. As there was nothing else to do, once again, Kurama offered his assistance. This time it was accepted.

"I appreciate your help," the woman said as she handed off wet dishes for Kurama to dry.

Kurama shot the woman a smile, to which Petunia cringed to, head quickly snapping away from the teen's face. Kurama stared curiously at her. It wasn't the first time the woman had done such things. All throughout breakfast Petunia seemed overly conscious of Kurama's attention. Anytime the redhead spoke politely to her, Petunia seemed unable to handle it and would drop her eyes from his gaze. Kurama supposed he didn't particularly care how the woman treated him, but the curious fox that he was, he couldn't let a mystery lay unsolved.

"Aunt Petunia," Kurama began with all the worry of an uncertain teen, "Have I angered you in some way?" he asked, projecting an expression not many could ignore.

Petunia's eyes widened at the accusation, biting her lip. "Oh- of course not Shuuichi," she said hastily.

Kurama didn't let it drop. "Is that so? I'm relieved. You've just never seemed to want to look at me," the teen added pitifully, quite deliberately.

As Kurama had predicted, the woman wringed her hands uncomfortably. She dropped the last of the dishes back into the soapy sink, pulling off her gloves.

"Aunt Petunia?" Kurama said wonderingly as she slipped back into the chair by the kitchen table.

"I-I apologise," the woman finally said. "It's not you – you just look remarkably similar to someone I know," the woman admitted, unable to help herself confessing to the young teen who was so worried about something that wasn't his fault. That teen could have the whole world eating out of his hands from his looks and personality alone. Petunia supposed she was no different – and the fact that he looked so much like her precious Lily when she was younger (back then when they still loved each other as sisters more than anything else), only made her spill out her thoughts so much easier.

Kurama's head tilted curiously, "Is that so?"

Petunia nodded. "Have … Did your mother ever show you pictures of her brother's wife?" the woman asked.

"That would be Harry's mother? Your sister? Mother might have, but it was ages ago, I'm afraid. I don't quite remember anymore," Kurama lied barefacedly.

Petunia let out a sigh, but didn't move from her chair. "You resemble Lily," she said at last, staring at her family photos as though she expected to see the ghost of her sister's face plastered over one. That lithe and elegant figure and charming smile of Shuuichi's pulled at haunting memories Petunia tried so hard to forget. Was this divine retribution?

Those green eyes of the teen seemed to pierce into her soul. Unlike the one of her charge, Harry, these eyes held depth and wisdom that only the most experienced adults had. The way they looked at her tugged at her heart, wrenching up the feeling of guilt she tried ever so hard to forget.

"Her hair was red like roses, and eyes emerald green. Everyone loved her," Petunia found herself confessing. Her voice was tight and even, like the woman herself was uncertain how she should be feeling, stretched out in all directions. Was she remorseful at the loss of her sister? Angry that she hadn't been a witch as well to experience all those wonderful tales Lily always recounted to the family when she came home every summer? Was she jealous of the love everyone gave Lily, the beautiful child of the family, the one everyone gravitated to, the one everyone loved more than Petunia? Was she scared that this look-a-like was a curse from Lily, trying to torment Petunia because she realised how she was treating Harry? Was she livid at those wretched wizards for ruining her life by mercilessly killing their family for being normal.

Petunia buried her face into her hands.

Kurama let out a soft breath, considering the woman's posture thoughtfully. "I see. You loved your sister dearly, didn't you?" he said. He could see the building of this woman's character. Love turned to jealous turned to hate. But fundamentally, there deep in her, the loved never left, merely wrapped up in a shell of regret that she couldn't shake off. Petunia wanted to deny it, but Kurama only shook his head, "No, you did, no matter what you're trying to tell yourself. I can see it in you."

"That doesn't matter," Petunia finally scoffed, her hard voice her only defense. "You were only bringing up memories I didn't want to remember. That was all. I'm sorry I was rude to you."

Kurama shook his head once more. "That's not true, Aunt Petunia. I believe it wasn't because you 'didn't want to remember', but rather because you 'couldn't bear to remember', scared of how to face yourself and your family once you let yourself realised how you've been acting."

Petunia rose in her chaired, anger rising in her at the teen's baseless accusations. Shuuichi only smiled softly in response. "I only want best for family. Think about it, won't you?" the teen said before Petunia could put a word in. With that, Kurama disappeared back to Harry, leaving the woman alone with her thoughts.

Petunia sank back into the hard wooden chair, body slouching onto the table in defeat. She hated that boy – no, she wanted to hate that boy for the words he was spouting – but she couldn't. Not when deep, deep in her heart she knew he was right.

Petunia got up from her seat once more, heading back to the sink to finish up the dishes. She didn't know how such a young teen was so insightful and wise, but perhaps Lily had a part to Shuuichi's appearance in front of their family. Lily always loved her and wanted the best for her. Maybe her sister was finally tired of Petunia wasting her life away in lies and unnecessary resentment and finally decided to step in. That sure seemed like something precious Lily would do.

* * *

The night came surprisingly soon.

Kurama awoke the first second he heard a whimper from his cousin's sleeping form. It wasn't the first night he'd heard Harry crying out in his sleep. The paranoid demon that he was, Kurama was a surprisingly light sleeper, and he woke up easily at any disconcerting sounds. Harry was chock full of nightmares - Kurama had a feeling with all the adventures Harry had against the Dark Lord, the boy's sleep was plagued with fear and death. Kurama didn't like it. Harry was sixteen – just barely older than his step-brother Shuichi - and yet mentally scarred of someone decades older.

Kurama slowly rose from his sleeping bag, quickly shedding off his sleep. Human body or not, Kurama was still a fox demon underneath that exterior, and sleep had always been a rare luxury demons - he had survived with less before.

Kurama leaned in towards his cousin to study the boy's slumbering form. Harry was struggling in his sleep, wrestling for movement under his tangled bed sheets. "Calm down," Kurama murmured soothingly, hoping his voice would subdue the boy.

Harry only cried out instead. "No, no, don't," he seemed to be muttering, tone full of fear.

"Everything's fine," Kurama promised.

But Harry only moaned all the louder, seeing things the redhead couldn't. Somehow things  _weren't_ fine with whatever Harry was seeing, if his need to raise his voice was any indication.

The red head slowly lifted a hand, wondering if the comfort of a warm, protective hand would calm the boy down. It didn't. In fact, the moment he touched the boy, Harry lashed out. The raven-haired boy's arm flung out, trying to dislodge the hand. His body jerked, arm pulling back and elbow slamming into the drawer where his owl-round glasses laid.

"Ah," Kurama murmured out loud, belatedly realising his mistake. To a normal child, yes, perhaps a hand would be comforting. But to a child who had known danger and war for his whole life, a hand could mean anything from pain to capture by the enemy.

Kurama quickly retracted his hand, kneeling silently by Harry's side instead. He set his keen eyes on the teen, watching for further behaviour. The teen thrashed in place, arms waving wildly, looking too much like a child frantically trying to find his lost safety blanket. But there was nothing Kurama could give him. Perhaps if Harry's bedroom had any sort of personality, that would make the task so much easier. However, Harry's room was bare to the bones with only the bare essentials - a bed, a table top, a lamp, wardrobe and bed stand. There wasn't even the expected stuffed animals Kurama could try to tuck into Harry's hold.

Apologetically, Kurama could only watch and hope for the best. He spoke softly to Harry, but the teen didn't seem to be able to hear. What he didn't expect was for the kid's hand to sudden crash onto his arm, nor for harry to clamp down on it, weakly trying to hold it in place.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," Harry was crying out now, in a voice so pitiful.

Kurama gave a worried glance at Harry, hand rubbing gently over the sleeping child's. "Harry," he murmured, leaning over the kid. "You're having a nightmare, Harry. Calm down." Kurama didn't expect the boy to comprehend what he was saying, in the sleeping state that he was in. Still, he was pleased when Harry did calm, even if it was only a bit. Slowly, but certainly, Harry's eyelid seemed to gradually crack open half an inch. They were dazed and unseeing, still in the world of dreams, but it was a start.

Kurama didn't know how much Harry could actually see, half-blind and half-asleep, but it seemed that colours seemed to pertain to him. Harry suddenly warbled out a "Mum" soft and strained. Kurama supposed, from what Petunia had mention, he looked remarkable similar to Lily Potter. Though, for Harry, without his glasses, it was likely just the resemblance in the blinding red of his hair.

Kurama considered correcting the boy for a second, but he dismissed the idea not a moment later. If his resemblance to Harry's mother was calming the boy, he would use his looks to his advantage.

"Everything is fine, Harry," Kurama soothed over the teen's pitiful slurring of incomprehensible words.

"Fine?" Harry seemed to asked, sounding so doubtful of those very words.

Shuuichi pulled himself closer to the boy. He stroked the teen's head in a calming manner he dimly remembered Shiori doing to himself when he was still a child. "Yes, fine," Kurama agreed. "You've done a great job." Harry's eyes fluttered in response. It might have been his imagination, but Kurama though he saw a loving grin on Harry's face, directed at the one he thought was his mother, before Harry finally relaxed into his touch.

Tension drained from the teen's body as he slumped back into his lumpy mattress. Harry's face pressed strongly against Kurama's hand before a minute later, he seemed fast asleep once more.

Shuuichi gathered Harry's blankets up and laid them evenly on him, tucking Harry in as his own mother had always done. Harry only snuggled in deeper, seemingly able to find comfort in the heat of Shuuichi's body sitting next to him. So, Kurama stayed still, staring off into the distance, letting Harry unconsciously lean in against him like a moth seeking after light.

What was he supposed to do now, Kurama wondered. Whatever he may have originally felt about this mission, the moment he got to know Harry, Kurama felt invested in the boy. Harry was family, despite Shiori's lack of talk about him. It honestly didn't help that the boy was so pitifully haunted that Kurama's big brother side (the side that emerged when he gained his step-brother) couldn't let him go.

Kurama looked down at the bag he'd packed for his journey here, trying to remember if there was anything useful in there - he desperately needed more information on his cousin if he wanted to stop feeling so ignorant and helpless. Kurama hated that feeling, and more so now than ever before.


	3. The Letter

It was interesting how quickly things changed. Around the start of summer, Harry would've instantaneously told anyone willing to listen just how utter boring life was like at Privet Drive. His so-called family was miserable, the days were so monotonous, and the lack of contact with friends was torturous.

Then one day that all changed, due to a single letter from someone Harry honestly wished he'd known about sooner. Shuuichi was amazing. Of course, there was a lack of proper competition for Harry to compare him against – even if Shuuichi had been an utter slob, he still would've been amazing compared to the Dursleys – but that seemed like the best way to describe him. Somehow, from the redhead's arrival, something of the Dursley family sudden changed overnight. There was something odd going on with Aunt Petunia. The woman drifted around in the house lately, spying on him and his cousin from the corner of her eyes. She seemed … contemplative, which was weird, but whatever.

Whether or not Shuuichi was the cause, Harry couldn't say. However, clearly Shuuichi's presence had done something to his Aunt because it started the day after the other teen arrived. Maybe it was Shuuichi's appearance. Harry had to be a fool not to notice the unusual resemblance between his mother and Shuuichi. In the quick second after Shuuichi crossed the door and Harry caught his first glimpse of his appearance, Harry had been furious, suddenly struck with the thought that his mother had another child.

Then logic kicked away that stupid thought, and he was left wondering what Shuuichi's mother looked like, and what sort of man James was (because, really, if by chance Shuuichi's mother looked like Shuuichi, then didn't that mean James fell for Lily because she reminded him of family?). Or perhaps a certain taste in partners ran in the family if both his father and Shuuichi's mother had fallen in love with redheads.

Of course, then again, Shuuichi's mother was apparently adopted into the Potter family. This lead to a whole heap of other questions, mainly: why didn't Dumbledore tell him about her? Surely the headmaster had to have known. True that wouldn't have affect where he lived during the summers (stupid blood protection worked only with blood relatives of Lily), but it would've been nice to know he had more living relative than just the Dursleys.

Of course, then again, Shuuichi's family never tried to keep in touch with him either - the utter lack of letters sent to him was telling. The only consolation Harry had of that fact was the convenient excuse from Shuuichi that his family had apparently thought  _Harry_ was the one to cut them off. Lie or not, Harry couldn't tell. But, clearly the Minamino family had at least been keeping an eye out for contact from Harry, if they knew where he lived (seeing as Shuuishi's advisor somehow got the Dursely's address).

And if that  _was_  a lie, Harry still bet it wasn't Shuuichi's fault for not keeping in touch. The other teen's mother had likely done so to keep the redhead away from the wizarding world. Harry didn't know much about the woman, but fact that Shuuichi didn't react towards Harry's famous scar, that had to mean he was truly ignorant of the wizarding world. Witches rarely lived convincing lives in the muggle world, so Shuuichi's mother had to be either a muggle or squib. The fact that Potters mainly dwelled in the wizarding world meant that she had be a squib at the very least. Harry knew quite well how some wizarding families, the prejudice bigots that they were, treated squibs. If the woman had deliberately tried to cut herself off from the wizarding world, going as far as keeping her son away from Harry, Harry supposed he couldn't fault her.

Still, whatever the reason for their lack of prior communication, the Shuuichi that Harry knew now was a nice enough bloke. Mysterious to the boot too. There was a certain air around the other teen that subconsciously awed Harry. Maybe it was his graceful movements, or the serene way he regarded everything, or even the sly look deep in his emerald green eyes, but Harry knew there was _so much more_  to Shuuichi he still had yet to see.

Harry supposed there  _was_  a little bit of him that just  _ached_  to know what Shuuichi was hiding behind his mysterious demeanor – let it be known Harry didn't do well with not knowing things.

(But heck, it wasn't his fault he was constantly lied to, or uninformed of important information for his own sake,  _apparently_. So, really, it was the fault of all the over-protective adults and professors around him that made him this way.)

Still, no matter how much Harry tried, getting past Shuuichi was impossible (not that he tried  _too_ hard. Yes, he knew what subtlety was, thank you very much). The thing was, whenever Harry asked his cousin a question that was a little too private, Shuuichi would answer him … but then only hours later would he realise Shuuichi gave him absolutely nothing. The redhead was talented at misleading him, giving him unrelated facts that Harry never realised was drivel until he thought back on the conversation. Some days Harry wondered if it was a culture thing, or if there was some sort of language barrier that was getting in the way.

Or maybe Shuuichi was just that damned sneaky.

It had been nearly a months since Shuuichi's arrival in the Dursely household, and Harry doubt he managed to pull  _any_  sort of secret Shuuichi may or may not have been hiding from him behind that mysterious demeanor of Shuuichi's.

Not that Harry could say anything about it, seeing as he was keeping a rather large one from his cousin as well – an  _extremely_  large secret in fact, seeing as it was about his whole life and existence. But at least for Harry's case he could say it wasn't because he didn't want to tell; there was a law in place, and he knew better than to try to squirm around it.

If Harry  _could_  have his way, he reckoned he would've told Shuuichi. There was a feeling inside of him, akin to guilt, every time Harry had to slam a textbook shut or throw his half-written essays under his bed whenever Shuuichi walked by. He hated having to fumble answering the most innocent of questions from Shuuichi whenever the teen caught a glimpse of something he shouldn't have. He hated having to hide Hedwig's abilities from Shuuichi, telling the redhead she was only his pet and nothing more.

The more mischievous side of Harry had other reasons for wanting to tell Shuuichi. He wanted to see how the redhead would react to those sudden words of  _"I'm a wizard!"._ He wanted to see the face Shuuichi would make. Would the teen accept it, or would Harry get a lecture on the nonsense of fantasy novels? Would Shuuichi humour him and play along, thinking Harry was acting for fun?

Harry really wanted to know how Shuuichi's mind worked.

With a sigh, Harry looked over at his cousin once more. Presently, Shuuichi was sitting by the window, looking like he'd claimed it as his own territory (Hedwig didn't mind the compay), and reading a Japanese book.

Harry himself had given up trying to guess what Shuuichi's book was about, Japanese looking like nothing more than swiggles to him, and was spread out on his bed with a pen and piece of scrap paper by his side. In point form, in words that looked more like scribbles than English, Harry tried to write an outline for his potions essay. Shuuichi wasn't a nosy one, but Harry wasn't taking any chances, trying to write as illegibly as possible while still being able to read his own writing himself. Later on, he'd have to properly rewrite the essay, but it would do for now.

Still, writing it was hard work, and that had nothing to do with perfecting his chicken scratch. The problem was, Harry didn't dare to bring out his textbooks, knowing that if Shuuichi was anything like Hermione, he wouldn't be able to resist asking to take a peek at one. There was no way he could talk himself out of that one. So, that meant harder work for him. Honestly, Harry couldn't even remember the difference between moonshold and wormwood. They were plants, right?

It was going to be a  _long_  day.

* * *

Kurama was somewhat amused. Sitting on the ledge of the window in Harry's room, Kurama paged through the book Koenma had thrown at him when their meeting had been over. The book, actually, was an introductory history to the wizarding world. It had a brief section on Hogwarts, and a whole two chapters dedicated to the wonders of his cousin Harry.

No doubt facts on the boy-who-lived were embellished, written solely to satisfy the masses wishing to see the boy as someone he really wasn't. Kurama had courteously glanced through those few pages, but on a whole, skipped it all. He was certain he could learn more about Harry by being around the boy than any description a book could give him. The boy's history intrigued Shuuichi, but he knew better then to put too much faith into the minor details.

It was only a couple pages in that Shuuichi found out wizards had moving pictures of all things. Thankfully, that was found out through the text, rather than any moving pictures within the book. Turned out Koenma either found a book that didn't move, or he found a way to disable the movements of the photos within.

The more Kurama read, the more awed he was at the wizarding world. In addition to all sorts of fanatical objects, they also had such amazing jobs – or at least more so than what the 'muggles' had. It wasn't too surprising; considering how much more wizards could do, the possibility of jobs were endless. But what really caught Kurama's attention was the wizards' knowledge of the existence of demons. There was a short section, buried within the lengthy details of other, more exciting jobs, that listed the words  _Demon Hunter_  in a way that looked like it had been added in as an afterthought. Clearly demons were acknowledged to exist, but their existence was not feared as much as they should be. Or, perhaps, the Spirit Barrier, and Detectives of the Spirit World had been doing their jobs properly to keep the human safe and utter ignorant of the  _true_  horrors of demons.

Nevertheless, it seemed the Demon Hunters of the wizarding world, though few and far between, were supposedly the best at their jobs. They were considered strong to be granted the title of Demon Hunter as their profession, having slayed at least one demon in their lifetime.

Kurama was certain the book's boastings for their undefeated kill rate was more than exaggerated, but he couldn't help the upward twitch on the corner of his lip. Deep, deep within him, Youko gave a howling laugh, spur on by the challenge the text inadvertently gave. Should he encounter one during his mission, they would surely be a hinder, but something told him it was also going to be fun outwitting the fools.

Did they really think they could ever hold up against true demons, those silly humans?

Shaking his head clear from Youko's thoughts, Kurama continued to leaf through the book, memorizing facts as he went along. In the corner of his mind, he wondered how Yusuke was going to handle it. He wasn't the type to start reading or remembering facts anytime soon, that Detective. At least Hiei had a good memory for these things (and other tricks to help him seem as though he knew what he was doing). Perhaps if Kuwabara came along, the delinquent would provoke Yusuke into putting more into this mission, driving Yusuke to work harder through their shared rivary. It was a shame Kuwabara wasn't part of the mission. Not that it was a bad thing he was working so hard for a better future. Kuwabara seemed very keen on getting into a good university, and with his sister's encouragement, he was doing a marvelous job so far.

Kurama gave an inaudible sigh and stared out the window, closing his book at the same time. He let his mind wander. What upset Shuuichi was his mother's mysterious past. Kurama liked to think his mother had always been open to him, but his lack of knowledge about her and the wizarding world she used to live in, proved otherwise. If Kurama recalled hard enough, he could vaguely recall something about Shiori mentioning she was adopted, but that was it. She'd never mentioned any _Potter_  family, or any possible magical powers she may or may not have. It struck Kurama so suddenly how little he actually knew about his mother. Or his step-family, now that he thought about it.

Not that Kurama had time to dwell on those facts anytime soon. His mission was almost at a start now, and he couldn't lose his focus on Harry and his school – there was only three more weeks before the start of a new term.

Between dealing with the responsibility of dealing with Voldemort; the death of his family, friends, and godfather; and all those death defying adventures Kurama heard was littered throughout Harry's school year, Kurama knew it was better if the teen didn't have any more on his plate. That was why Kurama appreciated how Koenma had dispatched the Spirit Detectives at even the hint of the possibility of demons attacking Hogwarts.

It was the Spirit World's duty to keep demons away from the human world. Harry would crack if he had to handle them as well, on top of everything else.

* * *

The sound of fluttering wings suddenly caught Kurama's attention. He instinctively turned towards the Snowy Owl perched on the stand beside him. Hedwig, in turn, stood motionless, only cocking her head at him as if wondering about his sudden interest in her. The source of the flutter sounds was soon corrected when screaming and colourful swearing echoing throughout the house from the floor below.

Kurama hopped down from his seat, hesitating for a moment to stretch out his senses and to see what Harry would do. His senses detected no youki, nor any threat, so when Harry dashed off to find the source of the commotion, Kurama followed behind at a sedated pace. Any lingering worry that Kurama may have had was quickly erased when Vernon roared out the problem with his face bloating into a dangerous shade of purple.

 _"Boy! Get down here and get that ruddy owl away before the neighbours see. You and your bloody lot need to be taught some manners! Uncivilized, the whole lot of you_!"

Kurama hover by the bottom steps of the stairs, wondering if he should pretend he didn't hear anything.

Petunia was trying to calm down her husband while Harry snatched the letter off the school owl, wondering what the Headmaster wanted. When he flipped the envelope right-side-up, Harry proceeded to rub his eyes before attempting to read it again. With an inelegant, " _Uhhh,"_  Harry made Kurama's decision for him. "Shuuichi, it's for you."

Kurama strode out from where he was hidden, receiving the letter with an acceptable air of confusion and curiosity. "Thank you, Harry," Kurama said, while his Aunt and Uncle gawked at the exchanged letter and wondered what the world was coming to.

The silence didn't last as Vernon quickly snapped out of his stupor, his face exploding into an odd shade of blue. " _You too?!"_  he hissed out in a snarl, "We've been housing another one of your kind in our house? We're not a bloody circus!" he spat furiously, "Get back to your room!"

Petunia shuffled around her husband, murmuring calming words, before looking back at the two emerald eyed boys. "Harry, Shuuichi, go back up to your room," she said warningly, glancing at the sputtering Vernon. Kurama dipped his head into a nod, knowing it was best to let the older man cool without their presence constantly raising his blood pressure every second.

Kurama broke the wax seal off the envelope as he ascended the stairs, reading as he walked.

In spidery green writing, the letter read:

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL_

_of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_Dear Mr. Minamino,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. We at Hogwarts apologise to the lateness at realizing your wizarding abilities. We hope that you will be able to catch up with the lost six years during your time in Hogwarts, and our staff will be more than happy to help if required. Due to this certain circumstance, you will be put in the sixth year class instead of the seventh. For further questions about the wizarding world, or Hogwarts, please direct them to your cousin, Mr. Harry Potter. I am certain he will be most pleased to help you._

_Term begins on September 1. Please obtain the list on necessary books and equipment for Mr. Potter again. I have informed the Weasleys that you will be accompanying Mr. Potter for his visit there before the start of the school year. Obtain your school material then._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore,_

_Headmaster,_

_(Order of Merlin, First class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Surpreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

Kurama was about to return the letter back in the envelope, when something flashed on the bottom of them page.

_PS. Read second letter in the envelope privately._

With that, the sentence disappeared from sight.

**…**

"So what does the letter say?" asked Harry, beside him, when the two of them finally slipped into the sanctuary of Harry's bedroom.

Kurama played his part as a clueless teenager, only just receiving his acceptance letter to Hogwarts. "Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardly?" he asked with just the right amount of ridicule in his tone. The redhead pointed at the letter, arching an eyebrow at his cousin.

Harry was quick to correct him. "No! It's real, I swear!" He fumbled around his bed, before pulling out a textbook he had hidden away earlier that week. "See, this is a one of my course books. It's real. Basically, you're a wizard so you can do magic!"

Kurama hummed thoughtfully, with lingering skepticism, even as he accepted the textbook and flipped through it.

Harry cringed, hating how he couldn't show his cousin  _real_  magic. "Students aren't allowed magic outside of school, but," Harry leaned in as he reread the letter Shuuichi was showing him, brightening up, "it says you're coming to the Burrow with me, so maybe the Weasleys will show you some!"

"Weasleys?" Kurama asked.

Harry nodded. "My best mate, Ron Weasley. He invited me to stay with his family a few weeks before school starts." Kurama nodded in understanding, but otherwise stayed quiet. Harry took his silence as an opportunity to rant about all he knew about the wizarding world, trying to familiarise Shuuichi before he was thrown head-first into the whole thing. Kurama listened, feigning interest. He knew most of what Harry was trying to explain already, courtesy of the book from Koenma.

Harry paused, suddenly hit with a thought. "I think you might want to pack up. The Weasleys are picking us up in a few days, actually."

"I hope I'm not too much trouble for them."

Harry gave a laugh because no one was more trouble that the Weasley twins, and Mr and Mrs Weasley seemed to be handling them just fine. A moment later, Harry frown, struck with yet another realization. "What's going to happen with your other school? The one you applied for?"

Kurama shook his head. "Nothing for you to worry about. I can handle it," the redhead said. In truth, there was no other school, but Harry didn't need to know that.

"Professor Dumbledore, the Headmaster, could help," Harry supplied helpfully, still looking worried for his cousin's (non-existent) plight. "If he  _obliviate_  their minds for you - wipe their memories – no one will know you were supposed to show up."

Kurama nodded with a smile. "I see. I'll talk about it with him then," he said.

"I can send the Headmaster a letter for you," Harry offered.

Kurama smiled warmly, but shook his head. "Honestly, Harry, please don't worry about it. I handle everything," he insisted projecting gentle stubbornness in his tone.

Harry frown, but eventually relented in defeat when it was clear Kurama was not about to change his mind any time soon. "Well, I reckon we should pack, then?" he said. At Kurama's nod, Harry headed for the door. "Most of my things are actually in the cupboard under the stairs; I'll be back in a sec."

"Take your time," Kurama called out at Harry's retreating back, discreetly reaching for the envelope he'd placed on the desk. "I'm not going anywhere." When Harry was out of sight did Kurama unfold the second letter within.

It read:

_Dear Shuichi Minamino,_

_Hopefully, you have taken this letter out second. If not, please return it back in the envelope, and reach for the other one. Thank you._

_Mr. Shuichi Minamino, I welcome you to Hogwarts on behalf of my staff-members. An old friend, Genkai, recently dropped by with the Prince of the Afterlife. They told me of some horrifying news about the possible threat of demons joining in our wizarding war. I was told by the Prince that his Spirit Detectives (you, and two others) would be willing to help to protect our school from them. I thank you on Hogwart's behalf, and will be pleased to help you (as the kids say,) blend in with the crowd. I understand that you Spirit Detectives have a different form of magic. Lord Koenma has gone over with Ollivander, our local wand maker, with details of this problem. All you need to do is drop by, and he'll fix you up a wand._

_I do hope that the possible threat soon to occur, as well as your duty to protect the school, will remain a secret among the other students to avoid unnecessary fears. Our teachers will not be informed either, and it would be a shame if they found reason to be suspicious of you._

_Please stand clear as the letter erupts in flames._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Headmaster Dumbledore._

As the letter indeed started burning, Kurama opened the window and held a hand out, watching as the letter turned into ash, drifting off into the distance with the wind. The redhead mused quietly at the implications of the letter. It seemed the Spirit Detectives were solely on their own – they would have to hide from both enemy and friend (with the sole exception of the Headmaster). And even then, just how much exactly  _did_ Dumbledore know?

Harry was back in the room not a second later, arms hefting a large, bulky trunk. "Let's pack!" the raven-haired teen said cheerfully, never knowing the contemplative thoughts whirling in Kurama's head.

Kurama smiled. "Of course," the redhead replied simply. He wasn't about to tell him anytime soon.

Really, like everything else, only time would tell how things would go.


	4. The Late Night Visitor

The burrow, despite what the name suggested, was not a hole in the ground. Instead, it was built up the other direction, up into the sky. It was an oddly decorated little home built higher and higher with increasing plasters of walls that defied all laws of physics. Were it not charmed together by magic, the house would've likely collapsed in place ages ago. There was a hodgepodge of gnomes and other unusual trinkets decorated across the front lawn to match some sort of convoluted theme – now all Shuuichi needed to do was figure out what that theme was.

Arthur Weasley looked over at Kurama, and his smile growing wider as the teen's eyes grew at the sight of his new residence for the summer. "Unique, isn't it?" the man asked, voice filled with pride. Unique was an understatement, in Kurama's opinion, but he nodded all the same.

He was rewarded with Arthur's beaming smile. There was a skip in the older man's step as he hurried along, gesturing towards the door. "Come along, you two. The kids are dying to see you again," he directed at Harry.

"Coming, Mr. Weasley," Harry called out.

When the older man was far enough from earshot, Harry turned towards his cousin, an embarrassed laugh on his lips. "Don't mind Mr. Weasley, he can get a bit …" Harry took a couple of steps before he could come up with the proper adjective, " _odd."_ The wizards frowned thoughtfully to himself before giving a nod, "Yeah, odd sounds about right."

Kurama let out a soft laugh, shaking his head endearingly, thoroughly amused.

Harry only hunched his shoulders and shrugged. "Well, don't say I didn't warn you when he starts asking you about plugs and electricity," the teen said with a sulk.

Kurama's amused grin persisted.

Arthur was already standing by the open door of the Burrow, chatting with his wife, by the time Harry and Shuuichi managed to catch up. "Ah, there you are," the man said, moving aside. "Molly, this is Shuuichi Minamino," he said to a short, plump woman whose smiling face warmed at the sight of the new redhead.

"Oh, my dear, you look so delicate! I'll fix you up a big healthy lunch!" she fussed, pulling the teen into a hug. "Shuuichi, was it? Both you and your cousin need to eat more!" With that, she turned her gaze onto Harry, a strict eye bearing onto the raven-haired teen. "Harry, have you been eating right?"

"Yes Mrs. Weasley," the teen said dutifully.

"I'm pleased to meet you as well, Mrs. Weasley," Kurama greeted, trying not to get swept up by her ever-flowing pace.

"Call me Molly, dear," the woman tutted before glancing over at his cousin. "How many times have I told you that as well, Harry?"

"Sorry Molly," Harry corrected, even though Kurama had a suspicion come tomorrow he would be back to calling her Mrs. Weasley yet again.

After a few more minutes of fussing, the two of them were finally allowed into the house - once Arthur reminded his wife about it, of course. The inside of the house was no different from outside. Everything was just as eccentric. Clocks forwent their normal two hands and were content with swirling eight in all directions. Paintings seemed to follow the rules of moving photos as seen by their movements – yet also had their own little quirk of talking to adjacent paintings.

The whole entire house was bustling with activity. It seemed like everything knew how to move on its own, dishes included. Frankly, the trampling heard from upstairs seemed quite normal in this lively house. That, and the yelling.

"Harry's here!" A female voice rang out. "He's here!"

There was a  _thud_ somewhere above, and then a sulking growl in a decidedly male voice. "Move it, Ginny."

"Make me," was the retort.

A calmer voice spoke up. "Oh really, you two. Must you always act like two-year-olds? Honestly, Ron. You're sixteen already; act your age."

"Why am  _I_  always the victim! Ginny  _shoved_  me," the voice rose.

There was a huff of annoyance, then a mixture of different tones as the children above talked in low mumbling tones. Finally some sort of agreement was clearly reached when there was shuffling, and then the stomping of feet as they descended the stairs.

The first one to reach the bottom was a sixteen-year-old boy, with ginger hair and freckled cheeks. If Kurama had to guess, he supposed this was Harry's best friend – Ron, if he remembered the name correctly. The teen, Ron, froze. With a gaped expression the boy stared at Shuuichi, taking in his appearance.

"Who're you?" the ginger finally asked, staring warily at him.

Harry frowned in confusion. Arthur and Molly had soon left for the kitchen the moment Harry and his cousin entered their home, eager to give the kids some time alone to bond. Harry as certain one of them would've at least mentioned his cousin was staying over? "Didn't your parent tell you my cousin was coming along as well?"

"Well, yeah," Ron began, fumbling with explaining his shock, "B-but-" he waved his hand over Shuuichi as though that said everything. To be honest, it actually did. "Your  _Japanese_  cousin."

Shuuichi gave a placating smile. "Is it the hair?" he asked.

Ron nodded mutely, hands flapping in the air. "Aren't Japanese people supposed to be short with, like, black hair or something? You know, not like someone who could pass off as a decedent of our family," he asked skeptically tugging at his own red hair.

"True…" Harry agreed slowly, looking like he wasn't sure how to address the issue himself, "but -"

By now, Hermione and Ginny were watching the exchange. Hermione sighed when Harry looked clueless as to what to say next. "Hair colour depends on the genes. If you have a dormant alleles encoding red hair passed down through generations, it's theoretically possible to have a hair colour different from your parents," the witch lectured. "This of course is supposing er- … Harry's cousin's parents don't have red hair themselves."

"Shuuichi Minamino," Shuuichi offered when the girl visibly stumbled over his forgotten name. "And no, my mother doesn't."

"Hermione Granger," the Hermione returned with an equally friendly smile on her lips. "I'm a friend of Harry and Ron."

The ginger haired girl behind Hermione moved forwards, a grimace on her face. "Ugh, sorry about my stupid brother. I'm Ginny." The girl rolled her eyes pointedly at Harry and Ron, "Boys, huh?" she said with a condescending tone towards the two.

Ron scowled. Harry let out a low "Uhh…", turning towards the decidedly male Shuuichi. In response, Shuuchi's lip quirked.

"You're just being annoying 'cause there's finally more girls than guys in this house," Ron snapped.

Ginny planted her hands on her hips, "What's wrong with more girls? This house his male infested with all you stupid brothers."

"So the three of you are going to band together against us?" Ron scoffed, "She's Harry's cousin. She'll be on our side."

"You guys are slobs. As if any girl would be willing to put up with you."

Harry let out another "Uhh…", looking more and more mortified as the sibling's discussion continued.

Kurama supposed the fun had gone on for long enough. With a small cough, he caught their attention. "It appears I might have caused some confusion," he began apologetically, while Harry looked ready to bury himself into the ground. "I'm not-"

"Ha! She's not going to be on your side," Ron interrupted. Clearly he still wasn't quite over that argument yet.

"Ron," Harry practically pleaded, "Be quiet."

Kurama only continued, undaunted by the interruption, "- female."

It took a couple of seconds for them to piece that disrupted sentence back together. It took a couple more for the fact to sink in.

Ron sputtered. "W-what? What do you mean not a girl? You-" Ron's brain stalled, unable to start up, "You can't be a guy!"

Beside him, the girls flushed in embarrassment. "Merlin, what a first impression," Ginny wailed, horrified of everything she said.

"It was an honest mistake," Kurama pacified gently.

The girl only shook her head and moaned into her hands once more. It took a few minutes, but eventually Ginny finally pulled herself together. There was sigh on her lips as she mumbled, "Well, I can guess how mum's going to react. She's going be all ecstatic at the thought of another girl, and then we'll have to correct her, and then the whole family would have made a fool of ourselves in front of you."

"Don't worry, we met your mother by the door when we came in," Kurama said.

Ginny's eyes narrowed. "Does she know you're a guy?"

Harry thought back, suddenly realising how gender-neutral the conversation had been. The teen groaned. More things to clear up. Great.

Harry was surprised Shuuichi wasn't scared of his friends yet.

* * *

Morning was greeted with the sounds of the door banging. "Get up, you lazy boys! It's time to go get our supplies!"

The door bursted open a second later, and Ginny stood glowering in the doorways. She'd expected to find three boys sprawled out in their beds still. What she found was  _two_ boys still soundly asleep, and Shuuichi sitting daintily on the windowsill leafing through one of the Quidditch books her idiot brother left lying about. The Japanese teen turned silently towards her.

"H-hi!" Ginny managed to stammer out, suddenly feeling quite self-conscious. After embarrassing herself in the previous day, she was having a hard time trying not to feel like everything she did was only making her seem like more of a fool.

"Good morning, Ginny," Shuuichi replied, sounding so ignorant to her inner plight.

"Morning, Shuuichi," Ginny said carefully.

As luck would have it, Shuuichi  _did_  realise what was going through her mind. "Ginny, if you're still uncomfortable because of the assumptions made yesterday, please be at ease. It's not the first time I've been mistaken as female."

The girl blushed at the reminder.

"I believe Harry almost mistook me as well," the redheaded Japanese added.

In bed, under pillows, Harry groaned. "Why do you have to remind me?" the teen said, prompting a giggle from Ginny.

"Wha's goin' on?" Ron's groggy voice finally slurred out, full of sleep. The ginger glared over by the door once his eyes opened. "Ginny, wha're you doing here?" he demanded in an annoyed tone.

"Waking you up," Ginny snapped back.

"Humiliating me," Harry murmured at the same time.

Kurama chuckled at his cousin, and Ginny's grin reappeared from his words. "Shuuichi's the one blurting out your secrets, not me," the girl teased.

"Secrets?" Ron asked.

"Harry thought Shuuichi was a girl too!"

"Ginny!" Harry moaned, glaring at his all-too-amused cousin in betrayal.

Kurama smiled innocently back, before getting up from his seat and strode towards the door. "Thank you for waking us up," the teen said towards Ginny, walking around her. He descended down a step before he turned around and offered the girl a hand, "Shall we go and eat breakfast, while these two freshen up?"

Ron rubbed his eyes, watching as his sister beamed happily and followed the other teen down the stairs. "Hey Harry, is he flirting with my sister?" Ron asked, sounding like his overprotective side was starting to rear its head.

Harry sighed. "Ron, you're an idiot."

"Hey! He  _thanked_  Ginny for coming here and annoying us, then walked her down the stairs!"

"Ron," Harry sighed once more, heading towards his trunk to pull out some fresh clothes, "That's just the way he is. I swear. Shuuichi's seriously polite." Harry gave a shrug. "Maybe it's a Japanese thing?"

Ron huffed, eyes still narrowed at the empty doorway. "Fine," the teen muttered. "But I'm keeping my eye on him."

"Yeah, yeah," Harry laughed silently. "But you're honestly worrying over nothing."

**x**

The Weasley family plus three headed off to Diagon Alley shortly after breakfast was over and done with.

Kurama tried not to stumble as he slipped out of the fireplace. In front of him, Arthur held out his arms, ready to catch him just in case. Kurama nodded a thanks, but twisted past the older man.

Arthur laughed. "I guess it's not in the genes," the man said.

The non-sequitur made Kurama cocked his head in question, but his confusion was quickly cleared when Harry tumbled out, disorientated and fell straight into the collective group. If the Weasleys' expressions were anything to go by, it wasn't the first time. "I can't get used to the Floo," Harry groaned, clutching onto Kurama's arm for dear life as he let out a pitiful cough. "You alright, Shuuichi?"

Kurama's chuckle couldn't be contained as he brushed soot out of the younger teen's hair. "It wasn't too bad," he said, giving Harry's raven locks a good ruffle from the grey coating it was sporting. "Is this Diagon Alley?"

In the building around him, there were the buzzing murmurs of hushed, private conversations. Rather than any 'alley' of sorts, Kurama would sooner label the place as a pub. There were men and women (and possibly some non-humans) eating and drinking along the tables that lined on the floor. The smell of stale air tinged with food and booze only affirmed his thoughts.

"Oh, no, this is the Leaky Cauldron," Hermione replied as they led Kurama towards the rear of the building. "We can't Floo into Diagon Alley directly. The Leaky Cauldron leads to the entrance."

Kurama nodded thought fully. "Is it not dangerous for," the teen tilted his head towards the less human-looking customers, "certain patrons to be eating here where muggles could stumble onto them?"

As if that was an invitation, Hermione quickly launched into a discussion. "One would think so, however you have to keep into consideration the endless possibility of magic. There are actually concealment spells around the pub, you see? Muggles normally are incapable of seeing the Leaky Cauldon, let alone walk in." The girl delved into the history of the pub without further ado.

With a polite smile, Kurama kept an ear on her even as he observed his surroundings. By now, the group were standing in front of a bricked wall, watching as Arthur tapped away with his wand. Kurama supposed he was desensitized to the oddness of wizards when he didn't even blink when the bricks suddenly parted before his very eyes. Still, the sight of what had to be Diagon Alley did awe him.

Spanning down both sides of the road, pushed side-by-side against each other like a wall of trees, were endless shops buzzing with energy. The buildings looked like something pulled from the past, reminiscent of the early 1800s, but coloured with magic and excitement.

"Welcome to Diagon Alley!" Harry said with a flourish wave of his hand.

Their first stop was Gringotts. There was something exciting, staring at the challenge engraved onto the silver doors of the Gobin-run bank. Still, Kurama was alongside company and he knew better than to let the smirk itching from inside of him crawl onto his face. Nevertheless, his eyes might have gleamed mischievously at the sight of Gringotts. And well, if Harry saw anything, it was the trick of the lights. Really.

By the end of their tour into Harry's vault, Kurama's opinion of the Goblin rose a little more, given the sight of their security. The vaults were hidden underground in a maze like tunnel system, akin to an ant's nest, full of turns and dead ends and only one route leading out. The track leading to the vaults were wide enough so that there was only enough room for their high-speed carts – anyone trying to run on foot through the tunnels would likely be flattened by a cart before they could move away. Stationed around were dragons, bred to slaughter anything and anyone not accompanied by a Goblin.

Then again no security was without its faults. Though Kurama knew better than to give into his own amusements during a mission, that didn't stop him from planning out possible strategies in his head. It made the long shopping trip after their trip to the bank more bearable than it otherwise would have been.

"Merlin, Harry! Look at this; it's so sleek!" Ron crooned, dragging the raven-haired boy over to the large window of a store bearing the glittering sign of  _Quality Quidditch Supplies._

There was a sparkle behind Harry's glasses as he rushed along. "Too bad it's just a prototype!" the teen cried excitedly, sounding so much more like a teen than Kurama had heard him.

Curiously, Kurama snuck a peek as well, but the artistically carved broomstick spoke nothing to him. "Can you explain the appeal of a broomstick to me?" the redhead asked in interest.

There was a scandalised look on Ron's face at his words. "Appeal? Can't you see it?" he cried, arms waving frantically, "Look at that form! Do you know how fast this broom will go?"

"There's nothing like flying up in the sky," Harry added.

The appeal, it appeared, had nothing to do with the actual broom itself – or at least in Harry's case. Ultimately, it was the love of flying that enticed the kids, and so it was no wonder Kurama felt nothing for the broom. With his plants, Kurama could easily achieve flight, and in a form much more elegant than a stick of dead wood. Kurama could manipulate flora into something akin to large, looming wings and drift along the skyline in perfect bursts of energy, where speed and control relied solely on his own practiced ability. There was something unsophisticated about having to rely on a broomstick set with certain specifications.

With an understanding nod, Ron and Harry's attention drifted quickly, and Kurama's own drew to the wand he currently had stored in his jean pockets instead. Not soon after leaving Gringotts, Kurama had been lead towards Ollivanders _._  The wand shop was a curious place, feeling of muted magic due to the hundreds of stored wands piled on the shelves. The moment Kurama arrived, the owner, Mr. Ollivander, peered at him with wide moon-pale eyes before quickly ushering him into the back room, much to Kurama's companions' confusion.

Catering for the 'magic' of demons was apparently a difficult thing. The problem was that demons normally didn't need accessories like wands in order to channel their magic. Any attempts with normal wizarding wands charred and abused the poor wands until Ollivander finally slapped Kurama's hand away and refused to let him touch another. They'd hastily turned to a different path after that. Actually, Ollivander had been expecting to have to make Kurama's wand from scratch, and that was why he had lead Kurama towards the backroom in the first place.

There, the two of them collaborated to create a worthy wand. Since demons knew how to efficiently pull energy from themselves, they concluded that, unlike with wizards, using a wand core from another creature as a conductant would only interfere with their 'magic.' As such, using something that represented himself as the wand core would help him transfer energy into the wand to be let out. A strand of hair from Youko Kurama seemed to do the trick.

The wood of the wand, by Kurama's suggestion, was that of a demon plant. Not only more durable than wood of the human world, but it also emitted the same aura as the type he used – demon energy. Hopefully, it would be more compatible.

In the end, Shuichi came out of the wand shop with a new wand that felt miles more harmonious to his demon energy than any of the other wands that he'd tried. Kurama had a feeling he would still prefer not using one, but as far as props went, this wand was usable.

After shopping for his robes and school books, the large group has split up, which was why Kurama was with Ron and Harry while they were staring enamored by the broomstick on display.

Kurama took a glance at his watch. "I believe it's about time to meet up with everyone else at Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour," the redhead said to the groans of the two teens before him. "We wouldn't want to worry them." Besides, it was well past time to head home, in Kurama's opinion.

* * *

Kurama was settled on the floor of Ron's room, watching the Ron and Harry sleep. The buzz of magic around him made Kurama's senses constantly alert, not used to such feelings in the human world amongst humans. It was a bit disorienting, to be honest, feeling this much energy around him when he normally associated this amount when around other demons or the scarce few spiritual beings he knew.

The window was propped open and Kurama was just deliberating closing it when he a sudden spike of energy drew his attention. It was approaching him from the outside, and  _fast_. Kurama knew who it was immediately. He shifted off to the side immediately, bracing himself.

Seconds later, in a gush of wind in her wake, a female flew into the room, only barely stopping before impacting anything hard.

"Kurama," she said.

Kurama's eyes flickered towards the two boys, bearing his keen emerald eyes on their sleeping forms. He held in a worried breath as Ron's snoring tapered off. Then, abruptly, Ron turned over in his sleep, muttered something unintelligent, then stared snoring again, albeit a bit softer.

He didn't have time to sigh in relief, nor observe for any longer when the girl started to talk once more. "Wha -"

Immediately, Kurama pressed his hand against her mouth, bodily dragging the girl out the window and into the garden below with one sturdy jump. She wiggled and shrieked silently behind his hand until they landed. In condolence, Kurama gave her a comforting pat on the head. "I apologise, Botan," he said, "But what do you think you are doing?"

The ferry girl stumbled out of his hold, leaning onto her oar. "I have a message to deliver," she replied, a hint of confusion at his abrupt movement to relocate her.

"Right now?"

Botan nodded wordlessly, before gesturing the house behind him. "You're always around them in the morning and afternoons."

As true as that was, that was no reason for her careless actions. "What if they heard you, though?" Kurama chided the girl and the way she flew inside without a second thought.

The blue-haired girl only tilted her head with a blank look on her face. "Humans can't see me," Botan reminded him.

" _Ordinary_  human, Botan," Kurama corrected gently. "I realise wizards aren't normally your jurisdiction, but please recall they're used to seeing ghosts and spirits."

Her eyes grew, face red. "Ah! Oh dear!" She gave a half-bow in apology, "I'm assigned to lingering souls. I usually don't have any interaction with wizards."

"I realised," Kurama commented. He offered her a smile. "Nevertheless, the message, if you please?"

Botan nodded, brightening up. "There's been a change in the mission."

"What happened?"

"Last night, there was a breach in Japan's Demon-Human World Barrier – it's been weak after it broke during the Sensui incident. The Spirit World's got everyone working twenty-four seven to fix it up, but it's not enough. The damage is considerable, and our hasty patchwork isn't holding back most demons from making it through. A lot of lower class, and even some higher class demons have managed to take advantage of the whole mess. Lord Koenma sent Yusuke to take care of them, but we don't think he's going to make it back in time for the start of the semester."

Somehow, Kurama had a feeling Yusuke was taking it easy in hopes of dragging out his new mission so that he could miss as much of the Hogwarts mission as possible. That kid would go to any lengths to miss school. Who knew, Yusuke  _could_  strategize after all.

"Until Yusuke finishes up with them," Botan continued, "you'll have to work solo on this for a little while."

"And Hiei?" Kurama wondered. Fixing the overrun demon problem in Japan seemed like a one-man job to him. Kuwabara was always there to help if necessary too. Thre was no reason why Hiei would have to miss attending Hogwarts.

"Oh right." Botan clapped her hands together in remembrance, "Lord Koenma sent Hiei to the Demon World to find out what happened. Demons don't just start rebelling out of no where, especially with that many together." She leaned in, "Actually, Lord Koenma personally thinks it's that Voldemort behind this."

Kurama hummed thoughtfully. It sounded like Voldemort had this planned out for quite a while. It was impossible to contact so many demons on a short notice, yet Spirit World was only aware of his plans to involve demons in a possible attack against Hogwarts a short while ago. It seemed like the Spirit World was behind in their intelligence.

"I'll do what I can, to protect Harry," Kurama replied firmly. "Is there anything else I need to look out for other than demons and Death Eaters?" he asked, just in case.

The ferry girl tapped her lip in thought before she shook her head. "Not that I'm aware of. Thanks, Kurama." The redhead nodded and she continued, "I need to report back to Lord Koenma now. Good luck." With that, she hopped back onto her oar and took off to the sky.

By himself, Kurama stretched his senses to the window above, trying to listen for any sounds. He was certain there was no one by the window – actually, he had been keeping an ear on that ever since he jumped down with Botan – but now that he focused, he could hear sounds further away, like the soft moaning from Harry and soft snoring from Ron.

Carefully, Kurama jumped back into the room through the open window. He landed and was only just by his sleeping bag when Ron sat up abruptly, snore immediately cut off. The Weasley blinked at him a few times, pulling his covers over his head. "Uhh, washroom?" he slurred out.

Kurama wasn't sure if the kid was asking him or stating it, but he nodded with a "yes," because that explained when he wasn't  _in_  his sleeping bag yet.

"Oh, you first then," Ron said, waving his hand while scrubbing his eyes with the other, "I'll go after."

"Thank you," Kurama said with a nod, leaving even when he didn't need to. It was better to go with the flow.

What he didn't know was that the moment the door closed behind Shuuichi, Ron narrowed his eyes into a glare. The teen pulling his hastily stuffed  _Extendable Ear_  from under his blanket. Ron had woken up when Kurama had jumped out of his window. He didn't dare move from his bed in case the other redhead heard him, but that didn't mean he couldn't hear when Shuuichi started talking outside. Armed with his ever present  _Extendable Ears_ , Ron had slowly inched the ear towards the window from the safety of his own bed.

Harry would laugh if he ever found out, but honestly, Ron had expected a secret rendezvous between Shuuichi and his sister. Call him paranoid, but he thought Shuuichi was too polite to be anything but faking, trying to charm Ginny and other girls. So, like he'd told Harry, he was keeping an eye on Shuuichi.

And when Shuuichi suddenly decided to slip out at night, Ron thought he could catch the teen redhanded trying to woo his sister, or something.

A secret meeting with some stranger was not what he expected, especially a stranger in England who also knew Japanese. And the more he heard, the more distrustful he was of Harry's cousin. Sure Ron didn't know any Japanese, but names were universal. Somehow the words  _Hogwarts, Voldemort, Harry,_  and  _Death Eater_ , painted a rather suspicious picture, especially when used together.

And if Ron wasn't mistaken, Shuuichi had been called another name. Something like  _Kurama_. If using a false name didn't sound fishy, Ron didn't know what did. He knew Shuichi was trouble. No one was going to dupe Harry without him kicking their arse all the way to the Romania and back. Especially if they were one of Voldemort's minions.


	5. The Troubles Begin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To answer a couple questions/comments:  
> Ron was listening through the Extendable Ear - something Kurama has no idea about. All Kurama knows is that no one was standing by the window listening to them talk.  
> Q: Will Yusuke and Hiei be there? A: Yes, probably half-way in the school year or so. There's still things I have to introduce before that can happen

It tingled.

Who knew the abundance of magic could tingle his soul? As Kurama set foot in the Castle, the magic that washed over him was nothing like he had ever experienced. Demon magic was as one expected it to be - hostile, raw, and intense as the demon itself. This magic, on the other hand, was soothing. There was an undertone to it that seemed to caress him, nudge him, and invite him into her vicinity; it was the magic of a welcoming castle.

**x**

"What's wrong with you, Ron?" Harry hissed as they politely clapped for the newly sorted first years.

Ron refused to look over, avoiding eye contact. "I don't know what you're talking about," the teen said defiantly.

"You know what. The way you're treating my cousin," Harry replied with a scowl.

In the week leading up to their trip to King's Cross, Ron's behaviour towards Shuuichi grew more and more hostile. He'd grown from paranoia of Shuuichi trying to flirt with the girls, to open hatred. Something changed overnight, but Harry didn't know what.

"Look," Ron whispered out, "How do you even know he's your real cousin?"

"What?"

"How do you know he's not a Death Eater in disguise?" Ron continued heatedly.

Harry stared at Ron, "Are you serious? A Death Eater? Shuuichi?" Harry rolled his eyes, "He didn't even know he was a wizard before he got his Hogwarts letter a few weeks ago."

"Well, maybe not a Death Eater," Ron said reluctantly, "He can still be allied with them."

"He didn't even  _know_  about the wizarding world."

"So he says," Ron rebutted.

Harry sent a glowering glare at his friend, anger in his tone. "I know you don't like Shuuichi, but that doesn't give you a reason for accusing him like that!"

Ron hissed, "I'm telling the truth, Harry. I heard him talk with them with my own ears!"

Harry shook his head. "When; in the Burrow? Then why didn't they just attack us to get it over with if they can make it past your family wards? Shuichi's not even a pureblood, so I highly doubt Voldemort would consider recruiting him in the first place. You probably had a nightmare."

"Come on, he might not even really be your cousin! I mean, that red hair; he's probably trying too hard to look like your family and forgot to pretend to be Japanese," Ron argued.

Harry couldn't deny Shuuichi didn't look like a typical Japanese, and a little too much like his mum, but he wasn't about to start alienating his cousin just because of some coincidences. "Look," Harry bit out, "Stop bad-mouthing my cousin, Ron. He's family, and you know how much I hate it when people talk bad about my family and friends."

"He's not- "

"Ron!"

Ron clenched his fists in anger but relented in the end, in the receiving end of Harry's disappointed gaze. "Fine; I'll stop, but don't expect me to accept him."

Harry sighed, "I know." He gave a weak smile at his friend. "Give it some time. You'll see; Shuuichi's not that bad." Ron just grunted more certain than ever this was some plot, calculated to take advantage of his friend's weak points.

In the front of the Great Hall, Professor Dumbledore smiled as he watched the final sorted student scramble to his spot in the Ravenclaw table. With a cough, he stood up and slowly drew his students' attention. "That is the last of the first year, but it is with my great pleasure to introduce yet another student to our growing family!" He clasped his hands in front of himself. "It appeared that three students managed to slip through the system due to some problems with our old spell cast to detect prospective first years." The headmaster shook his head shamefully at the mistake. "All three have accepted the offer, but sadly, due to application complications, travel problems, and misplacement of parchments and missives due to my old age, it seems there will be a delay for two of our students. Our third, however," Professor raised his arm, and the doors to the Great Hall opened by itself, "Please welcome Shuuichi Minamino."

The students collectively looked over as a redhead strolled in. The teen gave a pleasant smile and a bow, "Thank you, Headmaster," he said, voice echoing across the Hall. Shuuichi would never realise, but that was the exact moment yet another unofficial fanclub of his was established. It seemed he would never escape one, whether it was Meiou High or Hogwarts.

The teen made his way to the front of the Grand Hall, accepting the raggedy sorting hat from the Deputy Headmistress. The hat let out a grumble the moment it touched his head.

 _Anything wrong?_  Kurama thought to it.

 _It is troublesome to evade your magic in order to look into your mind,_  it answered,  _Not impossible - I am the sorting hat, after all - but a pain to do so._

Kurama sent an apologetic smile to the hat as it complained some more about having to sort through a thousand years worth of memories. _Hasn't Dumbledore assigned me a house regardless of your sorting?_  Kurama asked helpfully.

The hat snorted,  _That may be so, but I am obligated to sort any student who puts me on the_ right _way first. Whether I actually declare the right house is up to me._ Kurama nodded understandingly. He supposed the sorting hat couldn't escape its original enchanted orders, despite the command the Headmaster had given it.

It was only a few minutes later when the stitching of the hat for its mouth came undone and a shout of  ** _Slytherin_**  echoed down the tables.  _And I do say it's appropriate,_ were the hat's parting words before Kurama hopped off the stoll and handed back the hat to the Deputy Headmistress.

Around the table coloured with green and silver, the cheering and clapping seemed more out of courtesy than any bit enthusiastic.

By the table coloured with red and gold, a ginger teen was glaring. "What did I tell you? He's a slimy snake."

"Ron," Hermione chastised, "Just because Shuuichi is in Slytherin doesn't make him as bad as most of them."

"Name one bloke from Slytherin who wasn't evil."

Hermione frowned thoughtfully. The only people Harry knew who were from Slytherin were Tom Riddle, the Malfoys, the Blacks, and Snape, and calling them not evil was pushing it. He doubted voicing his thoughts would help his cause.

"See," Ron cut in, "You can't name any!"

"Ron, I thinking! Besides, I don't know Slytherins all that well."

"That's 'cause they're all evil!"

Hermione gave a huff and turned away from the ginger, grabbing some dinner. "Seriously, what is wrong with him," She hissed to Harry. How prejudice could he be?

Harry shook his head, shoulders shrugging. "Who knows." He thought over Ron's actions before giving it his best guess. "Jealousy, maybe? You and Ginny – and me as well -, well, we've been spending a lot of time with Shuuichi." The teen rubbed his chin, "And I don't think anyone missed how much attention Shuuichi got when he entered to be sorted." Harry would only be mildly exaggerating if he said there had practically been a collective dreamy sigh the moment the guy smiled.

"Shuuichi is very insightful and polite, and I'm not surprise he caught everyone's attention. If Ron has the time to feel jealous, he should learn to behave like a gentleman."

Harry laughed silently and looked over at Ron viciously stuffing his face. He really hoped jealousy was Ron's problem, and nothing more – because the bitter feeling of jealousy could be overcome one way or another. He wouldn't be able to stand it if his cousin and best friend never got along.

* * *

Dumbledore twiddled his thumbs as he leaned back onto the grand Headmaster's chair in his office. "Do you suppose I made the correct choice?" He asked himself.

On the shelf behind him the sorting hat chuckled, stiches pulling where his mouth was sown. "You know you're becoming senile when you start talking to yourself, Albus," the hat retorted with amusement.

"Well, I'd like to believe we're all a little senile, my old friend," the headmaster replied amicably, "It keeps the world interesting." The old man moved to pluck a lemon drop off his desk, popping it into his mouth as he thought. "That young man, Shuuichi – did I make the right choice sending him to Slytherin?" he wondered out loud.

Silence greeted his question.

Albus Dumbledore continued regardless, "I'm afraid this might affect his relationship with Harry. I'd always considered keeping the two cousins together, but due to the unforeseen circumstances with Shuuichi's detective partners, I didn't have a choice." The man ran his fingers through his long silver beard, combing out knots with each stroke. "Someone needs to be on the inside to keep an eye out for the students of Slytherin, and it'll be much too late to wait for the arrival of the other two detectives."

"It's quite too late now, Albus," the old sorting hat finally spoke up, "We can't resort him. You'll just have to see how the boy does in a den full of snakes."

"Perhaps," Dumbledore said hopefully, "At the very least this might help with the currently-lacking interhouse relationship."

* * *

People called the Slytherin dorm the snake den, but Kurama disagreed with that statement. A 'den' implied a lair; a home. A home was supposed to be filled with family - people who cared for each other with love and kindness. This was not the case here.

The Slytherin dorm had a hierarchy of its own. Age rarely played a factor. The main focus was on money and influence. Those whose parents played the highest role in the wizarding world, and had gallons among gallons in their  _multiple_ bank accounts were considered the most superior. In a sense, this description was made for one, Draco Malfoy.

Said sixth-year boy lounged gracefully in the common room couch, as the other Slytherins flitted around him, wary to invoke his wrath.

He was, in a sense, Kurama noted, the alpha of this so-called family, and yet none of that status was likely earned on his own. The boy basked in the life of the strongest and highest class, but never endured the hardships that came with it. He was, frankly, a child playing make-believe until one day, he would be prematurely flung out of his comfortable childhood and tossed into a harsh adult life he was not ready for.

Kurama stood on top of the staircase leading to the dorm rooms, watching the scene in the common room below. Standing off to the side, back towards the wall, he avoided obstructing the traffic to and fro, while having a perfect view of the situation below. It was the perfect location to observe the common room as a whole without requiring to be part of the scene himself.

Draco Malfoy, he observed, knew not how to preserve his life. Assuming that a title was enough to keep him out of harm's way was an idea proved false too many times. Yet, like the innocent child he was, Malfoy, was blissfully unaware of such facts, and boastfully sat himself in the middle of the common room among enemies, all side vulnerable to attacks. His only defenses were two bulky bodyguards with nothing but brawn. They kept the two sides of Malfoy safe from attacks, yet it was most likely that they would not know what to do, should an attack happen, without the guidance of the blond.

Kurama watched as Malfoy nodded his head at the two guards and they slowly lumbered towards him. He followed them to the blond on the couch, who, after scrutinizing him from the tip of his nose, finally held out a hand. "Malfoy. Draco Malfoy," the blond said, as a form of greeting.

"Pleasure," Kurama replied, "Shuuichi Minamino," he offered back.

The younger teen didn't even bother to hide the crinkle of his nose at the name Kurama gave. "Minamino?" Malfoy said, like the name tasted bitter on his tongue, "Not any pureblood I've ever heard of."

"I don't believe I am," Shuichi replied evenly.

"A mud-  _muggleborn_?" the blond continued. Kurama was more than aware of the slur the blond almost spoke out. Not that Kurama would have been insulted by the foreign word, but it did speak of the Slytherin house's somewhat finer qualities – such as their attempts at being relatively more respectful of those in their own house. Kurama had no doubt were he of any other house, the word _mudblood_  would have been thrown at him without any attempts at censorship.

"It is my understanding my mother is something of a squib," Kurama answered amicably.

First years would have flinched at the barely hidden distain on Malfoy's face. Muggleborns in Slythering would have trembled and looked away, ashamed. Kurama only wore a smile and gave an impervious stare. "Well," the blond finally said, "You'd better learn to choose your friends wisely, and know who to respect." He leaned forwards trying to stare down the redhead in front of him. "Otherwise, you won't want to know what will happen to you."

"Sound advice, I'm certain," Kurama said, emerald eyes glinting back at him. Unconsciously, Draco backed down, instincts leading his movement. "I'll be sure to keep it in mind." With a smile, the redhead dismissed himself without another word, leaving Draco Malfoy to stare mutely at the boy's retreating back.

* * *

Classes were unusual, sprinkled with the taste of magic. Nevertheless, once Kurama overlooked that matter, they were all fairly straightforward.

Potions class was simply the art of brewing potions. The results of the class depended solely on how closely the students manage to follow the potion recipe on the front board. It seemed surprisingly simple for all students to be able to do well in this class. At least that was Kurama's opinion before the Professor swept into the classroom with vicious snarls on his lips.

Snape was a taciturn sort, who gave bare minimum instructions. He'd burned holes in the back of Kurama's head, staring at him when the teen wasn't looking, but otherwise ignored him as he did for the other Slytherins. Kurama didn't know if Snape's cranky behaviour was typical, or if it was because of Kurama's appearance (because yes, the redhead realised the aching pain that surfaced when the man looked at him. Another thing linked to Lily, perhaps?), but the man took to humiliating the Gryffindors in the class as much as possible. It was petty, the way Snape targeted Harry. He goaded the boy and publicly announced his barely passing ability to meet the high expectations of his sixth-year potions course.

The Slytherins in the class laughed at him, leaving Harry to fume silently while working. Kurama supposed his cousin had built up a tolerance for it over the years. Clearly Harry was not so popular amongst Slytherin. The fact that Kurama was treated indifferently by his own house led him to believe his status as the Boy-who-lived's cousin had clearly not been distributed to the other students. Otherwise, he suspected, they would've tried their hand at harassing him as well by now.

The class Kurama enjoyed the most during the day was, without a doubt, Herbology. For a plant-user such as himself, it was no surprise. A slightly plump, soft-spoken witch called Sprout, taught the class. She loved her work, and as told by her dirt-ridden nails, she spent hours doing what she loved. Kurama was more than intrigued with all the different species exclusive to wizards. There were some overlap with demon plants – with a different name, and slightly dampened down mutant form, perhaps –, but most were quite unique. Of course, being a sixth-year Herbology course, none of the more  _interesting_ plants were studied, but the textbook and chats with Professor Sprout gave Kurama plenty to work with.

Transfiguration, apparently, was a more delicate sort of art, and as such, Kurama had been force down yet another year. Professor McGonagall gave Kurama a sympathetic grimace when the seventeen-year-old was mobbed by the fifteen-year-old preteens the moment he stepped into her classroom. As expected, the course work was more complicated than the other courses he took.

The ability to change an object from one form to another was interesting theory-wise, but not something Kurama believed he, or another other demon for that matter, could do proficiently. These witches and wizards, had a type of energy – magic - that was, in a sense, malleable. It was light and flexible, and when channeled into their wands, could gently reshape objects in a slow, soft manner that didn't disturb the nature of the object. Aided by the core of the hair or feather of a naturally magical creature, the flow of magic through a wizard's wand was more-or-less assisted in performing their desired outcome, drawing in help from the lingering magic of the core material – that was why certain cores had certain characteristics.

Demon energy, like the kind Kurama had, was opposite in every sense. The differences had occurred to Kurama the moment he set foot in the magical castle. A demon's energy was more similar to spirit energy than a wizard's magic; it was something more raw. Unlike other wizards, Kurama wasn't channeling his 'magic' through the wand, but instead he was forcing energy down and through the strand of his own hair in the core of the wand. Raw energy, after being pushed through a stick, was difficult to control. It refused to be docile enough so that it could change something's shape instead of destroying it. His every flick left a trail of destruction behind.

In a way, Kurama observed, wizard magic was for fine-tuning things, while demon magic was for larger scale projects. Both had their own merits given a situation. As for wizards with a large magical core, it seemed they would be proficient in both fine-tuning  _and_ these large scale projects. Those were who Kurama would have to look out for.

In addition to these courses, Kurama also took Defense Against the Dark Arts with his fellow sixth-years. On the train ride up to Hogwarts, Harry had told him about the cursed DADA position, which left the course switching professors every year. This year, Dumbledore dropped a little hint to Harry (which was fair, considering every DADA prof so far had more or less tried to kill him) that a certain Alastor Moody would be 'returning' to the post.

That, of course, led to a discussion of how the last 'Professor Moody' had been a fake under polyjuice. Kurama made a note to keep an eye out on the Professor, should it happen again, but he doubt Dumbledore would be foolish enough to be deceived twice. It was clear that this Alastor Moody was trusted by the Headmaster to be appointed the DADA position, especially during these dangerous times with demon threats present.

It took a bit of subtle questioning, but Kurama eventually was told how much of a formidable man Moody was. Kurama had a feeling Moody's 'mad-eye' was going to be hard to evade, and that was barring the man's extreme paranoia. It was times like this he despised having to go incognito during a mission, but it was also times like this his demon blood sang at the new challenge.

* * *

With the enjoyable days he was having, months passed without a hitch. Then, things got rocky.

The day started out fine actually; Shuichi, as he had been for the last couple weeks, practically had bodies thrown at him in an attempt to ask him out for the annual Yule Ball.

Kurama was more than sufficient at socialising, but the idea of the Yule Ball did not appeal to him. The thought of guarding Harry in such a crowded, loud area brought a frustrated frown to Kurama's face. He hoped, silently and internally of course, that Harry would consider missing the event, but alas, that was far from reality. The boy was eager to go because his friends were going, so that meant Kurama had a Ball to attend as well.

**x**

Dressed in his best dressrobe, Harry stood in the Gryffindor Common Room with Ron, waiting for Hermione to come down.

It was obvious the ginger was nervous with the way his mouth babbled on and on about absolutely nothing. "You think this looks fine on me? Not to dressy, but still looks good? Like I'm not trying too hard to look nice, 'cause I'm not  _that_  eager," Ron rambled at Harry, tugging the fabric of his new dressrobe.

Harry laughed. Ron had rushed to ask Hermione to be his date the moment the Ball was announced, remembering the disaster that was the years before. Of course, right after Hermione accepted, the teen was in a mess when he realized he only had that  _hideous_  robe from the Yule Ball way back when. As an early Christmas present, Harry bought Ron a fitting robe - modern and without those nasty  _frills._

"It's fine, it's fine, mate." Harry's green eyes twinkled as he eyed over Ron's appearance. His lanky, red-headed friend in a dark maroon robe looked like the flames of the sun itself. The dressrobes, unlike his usual hand-me-downs allowed his figure to seem more filled out than the normal awkward, gangly look he portrayed. "Hermione will love it."

The ginger blushed to the tip of his ears at the thought, and it stayed as he caught sight of Hermione coming down the stairs. Her hair was left wavy, coming around her face, tied up in a half bun by the back of her head. Her dress, after hearing from Harry that Ron's robes were dark red, was a light auburn chocolate colour with golden trims to match the Weasley's.

Ron's mouth fell open with a "Blimey".

"Where's your date, Harry?" Hermione asked, after muttering an embarrassed "thank you" to Ron.

The Boy-who-lived shrugged, "After that failure at the Yule Ball, I figured I would just go without a date this time," he explained. He didn't need another girl getting mad at him for being a horrible date.

The three of the trotted towards the entrance of their Common Room. As the painting of the Fat Lady swung opened, Harry noticed an elegant figure standing outside. Harry blinked at the familiarity of the sight of the figure in the midnight black dressrobe. Long, red hair was tied in a low ponytail, held in place by the nape of their neck with a single, perfect rose. Harry frowned. "Uhhh, … Shuuichi?" he finally guessed, because no other teen he'd known possessed the grace his cousin moved in.

The trio could see it was indeed Shuuichi when the teen turned around. "Yes, Harry?"

Despite becoming separated into different houses, Harry still managed to interact with his cousin every now and then. Their time together was few and far in between, but Harry was relieved that his cousin's attitude towards him never changed, even when it was clear all Slytherins were expected to hate him. For his cousin's sake, Harry tried to keep their meetings discreet and away from the prying eyes of other Slytherins. He tried to seem merely civil rather than too friendly when Slytherins were around. It was a bit frustrating hiding like that, but Harry really didn't want Shuuichi ostracized by his own house.

At the moment, the coast was clear, and Harry couldn't help teasing the other teen. "What are you doing here? Waiting for that lucky one of your two-hundred potential dates?"

Ron looked like he tasted something sour, before urging the group forwards. "Come on, let's go before we're late."

Kurama fell into pace beside them quickly. "Not really; I was waiting for you. I heard you turned down _your_ two-hundred or so courters as well," he retorted amusedly, giving out a soft chuckle.

They slipped into small talk for the next few minutes as they made their way into the ballroom. The ballroom was decorated in winter colours - there were silver, lavender, and pale blue streamers hung across the ceiling, curling around the glistening ice-like chandelier in the center of it all. Decorated Christmas trees stood around the room covered in magically produced snow that twinkled with every blink. The floors glittered as if it was ice itself, and the furniture were charmed white and soft like the wings of a Christmas angel.

To the side of the room stood the teachers on chaperone duty – Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Flitwick. Kurama glanced over at them quickly, making a note of who was present, before turning back to the room itself. He was mildly pleased Moody wasn't with them; there was only so much Kurama could do to discreetly use his powers should the need arise, and hiding from a magical eye in a room as small as this was near impossible.

The loud bangs of the band indicated the start of the ball. Immediately the dance floor was occupied. Kurama had no choice but to dance as the invitations came. The teen was waltzing slowly with the giggling Hufflepuff in yellow - his fourth dance, and waiting list still growing –, grimacing from the headache from the ever-changing perfume of the girls he danced with, when the world exploded in a kaleidoscope of screams and shrieks.

At once, the redhead pushed the girl towards her friends, scrambling to locate the source of the problem. Despite what sounded initially like a loud attack, it wasn't as catastrophic as Kurama feared. The ballroom was built into a circular chamber which echoed and amplified the small explosion by the back of the room. There, Kurama saw a couple creatures, undoubtly demons, lurking in the dim of the shadows. They howled in vicious delight, saviouring the fear they caused as they watched the students of Hogwarts trip over themselves fleeing in fright.

Within the shadows, the demons moved fast, and their high shrilling howls cut through their obstructions like a wave of energy. Pillars chipped and crumbled around the stampeding crowd like cement snow, raining down on their heads and adding a obstructing cloud of dust to the confusion. Above them, the chandelier broke with a loud shatter, dropping pellets of icicles down on the crowd.

Kurama's eyes darted quickly trying to locate Harry Potter, even as he tried to slip his way through the throngs of students running desperately past him.

He swept behind a long, simmering veil, hanging half-attached to the ceiling, attempting to hide himself. He could hear the Professors by the entrance of the ballroom, calling students over and casting shields against falling tiles.

Kurama slipped a hand around the rose tied around his hair, pulling it loose. With a small burst of youki, the rose shed its petals in a gush of whirlwind that carried it across the room. No one paid any heed to the pale pink petals, lost amidst the chaos and dust. They were delicate looking things, so innocent, but Kurama could manipulate them to sharpen as sharp as blades at a moment's notice. Its damage wasn't at the level of his Rose Whip, but it was a good way to keep the demons distracted until he could get near them.

Kurama could detect the first one behind the stage set up in the ball room. Pulling the white veil along with him, Kurama dashed out. He flung the veil around him as he attacked, obscuring the vision of the battle as he pulled out his Rose Whip. The demon let out a loud growl, torn by the thorns of his whip, and the blood that gushed out soaked onto the fallen veil instead of Kurama.

The ballroom was suddenly aglow with red as stunners were shot to no effect. Kurama's eyes narrowed at the sight of Harry leading the attack, guarding the backs of the younger kids. His cousin was reckless.

Kurama shot off towards him, snagging the stage curtain along with him. He doubt it would be enough to cover another one of his attacks once more – especially if Harry persisted to stay by the other demon instead of running – but it would at least disrupt the demon's attack if thrown at him.

Harry was scrambling backwards by now. His wand was still outstretched and firing relentlessly, but even the teen could tell this was a hopeless battle. He was slowly trying to inch away without appearing afraid in front of the enemy. The demon, on the other hand, grinned a toothy grin, stalking forwards in amusement. The moment it looked ready to jump at the teen, Kurama let out a burst of energy. In response, Kurama's drifting petals struck – they suddenly moved in a uniformed manner, twisting and slicing into the demon in a tornado of pink.

The demon leaped backwards, snarling.

With that, Kurama had enough time to reach Harry, pulling the teen by the back of collar until he was behind him. He watched the demon warily, tense and ready to attack should it sudden turn back on them once again. But, it never did. While Kurama had been running towards Harry, the demon had been looking around, trying to detect the origin of the attack. Kurama had all but supressed his youki since then, so he wasn't discovered, and by the time Kurama finally reached Harry, the demon was distracted by the sight of his fallen fellow demon.

Kurama could see the moment the demon decided to withdraw. He could see the way it realised it was probably not the strongest thing in the room. He could see the way it stiffed, fearful of dying like his companion. He could see the way it considered fleeing rather than face any possible danger in the room.

It was the thought process of a selfish low-class demon – one who would only attack when it knew it was the strongest one in battle, and grovel before anyone strong.

It ran the moment it knew there was something in the room strong enough to kill demons.

Kurama let out a sigh of relief. Had Kurama had backup, the redhead would've considered tracking the fleeing demon to see where it would lead him. However, he did not, and Harry was currently clinging to the back of his dressrobe, looking like he was afraid of what could have happened to Shuuichi.

"Why did you pull me back? It could've killed you!" the raven-haired teen demanded heatedly, fist clenched tight.

"I could say the same to your heroic act," Kurama retorted, recalling how startled he felt when he noticed Harry's first course of action in the face of danger was to defend instead of run away.

Ron and Hermione were beside Harry in an instant, never far off from him in the first place. "You both have a saving people thing, don't you?" the girl muttered shakily.

"We  _are_  related," Harry tried to joke as Kurama pulled the trio out of the ballroom and into the safety of the hall.

The Headmaster nodded at Shuuichi as he passed by. The teen shooed the reluctant trio back to their Common Room, before doubling back to where Dumbledore stood.

"Thank you for protecting my students tonight," the old man said solemnly. His eyes no longer twinkling as it had when they met. The grandfatherly wrinkles on his face aged him decades older as the man surveyed the damage.

"That is what I am here to do," Kurama stated softly, promise on his lips. He stared at the mangled figure of the demon he fought, half covered under the reddening cover of veil. "It was unfortunate that these particular demons attacked," the teen continued. At the Ablus' look, he elaborated, "The two that attacked appeared to be low class demons - D or E–class. I suspect an adult wizard could typically put one down with a slight fight in normal cases, but in this instant," he continued, "those two had particular thick skin. Your spells couldn't penetrate through to work." The teen shook his head, "I don't know if that was just a coincidence, or they were chosen to attack for this reason exactly."

Dumbledore frowned thoughtfully, "I see."

"It appears they're starting to make their move now."

"Indeed."

The children were sent back to their dorms where their Head of House fed them lies of magical creatures from the Forbidden Forest. They were given vague explanations of a non-native creature, attracted to the Yule Ball by the noise of their party. They were told about a non-existent mating season which caused the creatures' unexpected viciousness, and how the lack of wards against them were due to how they had never been seen before in the Forbidden Forest.

The Professor gave calming smile, and lied about taking care of the warding over the winter break.

Whether the students believed the lies or not were up to the little wizards and witches, but each and every student left on their Winter Break with a story to tell. Those who were injured had nothing worse than a faulty Quidditch match could inflict on them, yet their fears would likely take longer to heal.


	6. The Book

"To bed, all of you!" Molly Weasley called out, ushering the children into bed as quickly as she could. The cousins and the Weasley family were currently in the Nobel and Most Ancient House of Black. In fear of another demon attack, and this time at the Weasley cottage, Dumbledore invited them to stay in the old Grimmauld Place for their own safety.

 _"But mum!" "Mrs Weasley!"_  the kids tried to protest.

It was two days since the beginning of winter break. Three days after the attack at the Yule ball. Three days with no proper answers from the Hogwarts Professors.

Harry highly doubted the convenient story they fed the rest of the students. He'd been there; he'd nearly been killed – it seemed more like an attack than frustrated magical creatures. Harry had a feeling the Professors were hiding things from them. Harry did his best to get answers from the adults present, but no one was talking. The frequent visitors and residents of the Grimmauld Place plead ignorance to the situation, claiming they were nowhere near Hogwarts at the time of the incidence so they were clueless about the truth. Harry debated on owling the Headmaster about it, but soon realised the Professor would be over for the much need  _Order of the Phoenix_  meeting eventually, and they could talk face to face.

Of course, as luck would have it,  _no one_  was letting them stay downstairs, let alone let them talk.

"Not buts! You kids just hurry upstairs and don't worry about a single thing," Molly urged.

Ron gave a huff. "We're old enough! Even Fred and George are in the Order-"

"Ronald!" Molly Weasley wrung her hands, casting a nervous sideways glance at Shuichi. The Order was confidential information. Were Shuuichi really just a mere cousin, he would've been kept ignorant of it. But as it was, as a specially hired protection personal, he was privy to these secrets – especially when they were both there to keep Hogwarts and Harry safe. This fact, however, was not distributed to the others.

Ron caught himself, admittedly, a bit late. He glowered over at the redhead, cursing at the idea of giving the other teen even a hint about the Order by mistake. True to his promise with Harry, Ron had been relatively civil, but overall unaccepting of Shuuichi. To Ron, Shuuichi was something between a potential spy and a Death Eater scum. He had fought with his mum about letting Shuuichi stay with them in the old Grimmauld place, but in the end, the place was Harry's and Harry was more than happy to keep his cousin close by if it meant it would keep him safe. The only consolation Ron had was that the house was under a  _fidelius_ charm and he couldn't leak out the location to anyone _._

Harry let out a sigh when Molly refused to budge at their pleading, standing in front of them with her arms imposingly crossing on her chest. "Let's go to bed, I guess," he murmured despondently, leading the way up to the first floor.

The Nobel and Most Ancient House of Black was less grim than it'd been the last time Harry visited. It wasn't sparkly clean, but it had certainly been cleared of the muck and musty air it used to be coated under. Harry could imagine days and months Sirius spent cleaning up the place while he was in school last year. It was going to be a place the two of them could spend together … and now… Harry took a deep breath, holding in his gloom.

The first floor had more than enough rooms for each of the kids to have their own. The portrait of old Mrs Walburga Black stayed permanently stuck on the ground floor where she'd always been - right in front of the entrance, screaming at the top of her lungs at any and all visitors. The first time Shuuichi saw her, he grimaced at her shrilling voice, and learned to stay clear whenever possible.

Kreacher, surprisingly, seemed to like Shuuichi - or fear him. Or  _something_  him. Harry could never tell with that nasty little critter. When Shuuichi and Kreacher first met, the little bugger splat on the floor, muttering about more filthy mudbloods dirtying up his poor mistresses' home. Shuichi had merely crouched in front of Kreacher, gave him a pleasant smile and told him gently to 'play nice'. Kreacher froze for a second, his wide eyes widening even wider. And then, the house elf backed up, leaving Shuuichi alone after that, keeping as far away from the other teen as possible. This, of course, gave Ron more ammunition to rant about how Shuuichi was evil, since Kreacher only respected dark wizards.

Harry sighed, reaching for the door knob of his room. "Goodnight," he murmured, heading off, "I guess they'll never let us know what really happened." Maybe, if they were lucky, Fred and George would be nice enough to share some information about the meeting with them tomorrow. The other two boys and Ginny responded in the like before heading off to their own respective rooms. Harry could've sworn Shuichi's eyes gleamed unnaturally for a moment, but he shook it off – it was probably a trick of the light.

* * *

A snarling monster stormed his way into the inner room of the Manor. "You bastard," the thing spat, hitting his hard clay-coloured hands against the floorboards. The ground cracked, threatening to break. Wizards around it scrambled away, but the one it was talking to did not.

Red eyes narrowed. "Who do you think you are talking to," the disfigured man hissed, sounding so much like a snake. Voldemort's arm shifted, wand twirling in his hands, bit otherwise did not move.

The beast before him snarled once more. "You told me it was a simple job."

"It wasn't?" Voldemort said condescendingly. "You  _assured_  me of the so-called strength of a demon."

"Don't mock me!" the demon roared, rushing towards the Dark Lord.

"Stupefy!" cried one Death Eater, doing little against the demon.

"You weak little humans," the demon spat.

"Stupefy!" cried another, finally causing a tickle.

"Stupefy!" followed another, finally with enough power to slow down the demon.

"Stupefy!" a fourth and fifth Death Eater combined into the attacked, bringing the demon down. Against this demon's tough skin, the combined power of five adults' spell managed to affect it. Despite how tough the demon claimed to be, it was not infallible. Voldemort sneered at the fallen beast in disgust.

"He is useless. Dispose of it," the man said casually, flicking an idle hand in the demon's direction.

"Yes, my Lord."

Voldemort turned away with little care for the beast, picking out a Death Eater of his. "Severus, the attack?"

The man kneeled immediately, knowing better than anyone his Lord's succinct question was a sign of anger. "My Lord, as you suspected, the castle has no wards against demons, and the two were able to slip in as per your orders."

Voldemort's eyes narrowed. "I know that," the man hissed, "What happened during the attack?"

Severus fumbled, pressing his head lower into his bow. "My apologies, my Lord. I am displeased to inform you that the Headmaster refused to allow me to chaperon the ball, so all I can relay is second-hand information – "

"Crucio," Voldemort said idly, pointing his wand at the man. He watched as the Potion Master screamed. "I believe I explicitly told you to witness the demon's strengths, regardless of Dumbledore's orders," he spat.

"Y-yes, my Lord. I-I tried, but was sent away when the Deputy Headmistress noticed me."

The wand in Voldemort's hand twitched, but he refrained from casting another curse. Still, his displeasure was clear as day on his snake-like face. "What happened during the attack?" he said impatiently.

"O-one of the demon was killed, but the attacker was unidentified. However," Severus continued hastily, "it might not have been done by one person. While one wizard might be powerless against the demon, together they could manage to harm it."

"You're suggesting a band a children killed a demon?"

"The professors on chaperone were Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Flitwick," Severus added. The Headmaster, Deputy Headmistress, and dueling champion were among the three strongest professors in the school.

Voldemort didn't look any more pleased at that. Three professor did what took four or five of his own Death Eaters to down the thick-skinned demon? "I don't like speculations, Severus," the man hissed.

"I apologise, my Lord. I will do better next time."

"Yes, you will," Voldemort said, before flicking his wand. "Crucio." The man silently watched the Potion Master writher in pain, a cruel twist of his lips pulling a smirk onto his face. While Severus' information was less than ideal, it gave him all he needed to know. Demons, it seemed, were able to make it into the castle. The fact that one measly demon was killed mattered little to Voldemort, because recently, he obtained a rather invaluable treasure. It turned out demons were more than they seemed.

Let the old coot feel smug he managed to take down a demon, because the next one Voldemort sent was not going to be of that low level. It turned out there were far, far stronger demons out there than the wizarding world knew of, and Voldemort had a ritual to call one into their world, and bind it to do his bidding.

Oh what a surprise it was going to be for Albus Dumbledore.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore arrived at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place in a flash of green flames, via the Floo system. The expression on his was older and wearier than it'd ever been before his whole life, barring decades ago during his battle with Grindelwald. There was nothing that aged Albus worse than the thought of the children trusted to his school in danger, and the Winter Ball was everything that scared him.

Albus had thought himself relatively prepared. In addition to hiring the Spirit Detectives, Albus had updated the cautionary wards around Hogwarts. Yet, demons moved a lot quicker than what Albus had realised. The moment the wards detected a breach, the demons had already managed to make their way inside, and too late for the Headmaster to do anything about it.

There was nothing else Albus could put up to keep the demons away. Albus scoured though book after book, but there had not been any spells tailored to repelling demons. Demons were rarely seen in the wizarding world. Once upon a time they were abundant and threatening in the human world, but it had been millennia since many were seen, and years before spells were written down to be passed on. Scholars speculated that some present-day dark creatures had demon blood in them, but anything considered pure enough to be labeled just 'demon' were long dwindled down to less than a handful – that is, if one could actually recognise them in the first place. That was why Demon Hunters were far and few in between – the fact that it was hard to qualify as one when there were hardly any demons to prove yourself against, in addition to the fact that it was a job with little future potential.

Albus wandered down the hallway from the fireplace towards dining room where the rest of the Order had gathered. The Order of the Phoenix was in a state of panic when he reached them. While the students of Hogwarts were kept ignorant of the actual disaster, the truth of the Hogwarts incident was distributed for the members' knowledge. The idea of  _demons_  frightened most people.

Few still actually believed in the tales of a demon's strengths, believing the stories to be exaggerated. Wizards were egotistical being who assumed themselves to be superior over all. Even if demons were considered strong, they were considered brutes and mindless brawn, easy to overcome with a wizard's wits. Albus, through his friendship with unusual people such as Genkai, was taught what most were ignorant of - demons came in various classes, and most that wizards have seen lately were only those of the lowest class. Still, no matter what people thought, the idea of a large group of  _any type_  of dark creature controlled by Voldemort sent shivers down everyone's spins. And unlike most other dark creatures, much, much less was known about demons.

"What can we do?" Doge asked over the voices talking over one another.

Albus turned to them, a calm expression fixed in place. "Please, do not worry. I admit, we were caught surprised, but greater preventive measures have been put up since then. I have distributed the true tale of the attack on the Winter Ball not to distress you, but to inform you of the threat. I assure you it is fully taken care of." His words felt a little vague, even for himself. Still, there was nothing else he could say without giving away his secret plan involving the Spirit Detectives.

"We're against demons, Albus," a grave voice interrupted fearfully from another member.

"And we are wizards, my boy," Dumbledore placated as best as he could. "As the past dictates, we have dealt with such problems before."

There was a stomp of a wooden leg as the man attached to it leaned forward in doubt. His magical eye whirled as he talked. "Albus," the man gruffed out, "I hope you have a Hunter on the job," he said, straight to the point.

The retired Auror's words brought out a whole slew of discussions that Albus didn't want to go into.

"Of course; a Demon Hunter!" "You've contacted one, right?"

The old man cleared his throat, smiling pleasantly at the Order. "Please, quiet please," the man began, "You have my assurance I have asked for help from the best," he continued, as vague as ever. Lying was not something Albus wished to do when unnecessary, especially towards allies. Lying to Moody was a whole different story – a yes would require Albus to show him the hired "hunters", and a no would have Moody insistently demanding one to be hired. There was no proper answer to give someone like Moody.

The members calmed at the old man's words, trusting as ever, but Moody merely narrowed his eyes in response. "You  _have_  hired a Hunter?" he repeated suspiciously.

"Do not worry a thing about it, my friend. I have it under control," Dumbledore reassured. His eyes softened as he looked over at Molly Weasley, pale and clutching onto her husband. "Your children will be fine. I will not allow any harm to come to them."

Alastor held his tongue, but his lingering gaze on Albus told the old man he wasn't believed. Albus tried to shoot a grandfatherly smile over at him, twinkles included and all, but Alastor, that paranoid man only held his gaze challengingly. Albus continued with his speech for the other members of the Order. It seemed like he would have to deal with his dear friend's suspicions later.

Albus ran his fingers through his beard, contemplating how to proceed. "To our next topic - Voldemort's plans…"

**x**

The Order of the Phoenix finally got somewhere when Severus Snape arrived, hours into the start of the meeting. Before his arrival, all they had were speculations connecting the Winter ball attack to Voldemort. It took one word from Severus for those speculations to become the truth.

"It was a test against the castle's protection against demons," Severus had said as he summed up his meeting.

His simple words drew the members into frenzy. "You're telling me You-know-who has control over _more_  demons?"

Voldemort was unforthcoming with the details of his new plan, even to his Death Eaters, but Severus could infer from the Dark Lord's actions. There was a vague plan involving the invasion of Hogwarts with demons, if his probe of the school defensive measures were anything to go by. Yet,  _how_ Voldemort would get any more demons to follow his orders was questionable.

Severus knew of the two Voldemort had ordered to the Winter Ball were never under the Dark Lord's _control_  per say. The Dark Lord's plan had somehow fell onto the two's ear, and they made it clear it was only out of amusement that they followed his orders. The idea of wrecking havoc amongst defenseless students agreed with the demons, which was the reason why they did it in the first place. Voldemort had no qualms using anyone – any _thing_  – as long as it fit with his plans, and he'd already been researching demons long before those two approached him; that would explain his lack of fear collaborating with the rumored vicious creatures.

Still, even if Voldemort knew how to contact demons, how to subtly encourage certain schemes to them, that was in no way  _controlling_  them. No one was privy to the specifics of the Dark Lord's plans except the Dark Lord himself. Severus could only guess.

"You're keeping things from us," Moody sneered, his magical eye whizzing up and down to hold the Potion Master completely in his gaze.

Severus gave a scornful scoff, but didn't rise to the baiting words, speaking calmly as ever. "Recently, the Dark Lord has acquired a book. He is keeping it close, and has yet to tell anyone its contents. It is my belief it has to do with his plans."

"A demon related book?" Albus murmured in question.

Remus frowned thoughtfully, "Perhaps one of their habitat, strengths, weaknesses? Such information would be useful in trying to find and control them."

"If only it were that peaceful," Severus corrected harshly, rolling his eye distastefully at man's innocent thoughts. "The Dark Lord wouldn't be holding close to such a mundane book." The Potion Master contemplated the meetings he'd had so far with his fellow Death Eaters ever since the book had been made known to them, searching for a pattern. "In the raids recently, more muggles are brought to the dungeons than killed on spot," the man started hesitantly.

"In preparation of something?" Albus deduced.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Severus confessed, unable to confirm anything he knew nothing about. "All he has disclosed to the inner circle is the idea that the book will change the war once and for all." And with these ominous words that sent shivers down the spines of the Order of the Phoenix like a bad foreshadowing, the group was soon dismissed for the night.

**x**

Up the stairs on the first floor, Kurama's eyes snapped open as let out a shaky breath. That technique took far too much ki for his liking. Not to mention, there was a distance range for the technique, and his precious plant would wilt and die within an hour. Nevertheless, it got the job done.

A wirily smile appeared on the redhead's face, pleased no one noticed the new addition to the potted plants decorating the perimeter of the dining room. Then again, plants were often overlooked by humans because of their unassuming nature. Kurama was more than happy to take advantage of their oversight. Kurama would've preferred to be in the meeting himself, but there was no way he could stay hidden, especially around the man they called Moody. That vivid blue magical eye of his saw too much.

The fox settled himself back on the bed, a troubled look set on his face. The book they were speaking of … he had a fair speculation what the contents might be about. Of course, it was just a guess, with no evidence to back it up, but it was a start.

Unbeknownst to Kurama, in the room next door, Harry was awake as well. The raven-haired teen panted painfully under his covers, his hand covering the scar on his forehead. The boy squeezed his eyes shut, trying to quell his throbbing head, all the while trying not to forget everything he saw from his connection with Voldemort.

* * *

Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody was not pleased with the outcome of the meeting. The man stormed out of the meeting room in hobbling footsteps, dodging the Headmaster's genteel attempts to catch his attention. He could tell Albus was eager to drive his paranoia away with meaningless words of appeasement. Alastor couldn't care less about sentiments – he wanted facts. Facts that Albus refused to inform anyone of.

The man was too busying trying to calm down the other members to get much done. Who decided to let a housewife into the meeting in the first place, and half the members weren't even professionally trained.

No one except for himself seemed to notice how Albus was dancing around the issue of the Demon Hunter. Whoever Albus Dumbledore had employed clearly were not Hunters, or else he would've said so. Hunters were the best idea against the threat of demons, yet Albus wouldn't consider them. Why? Alastor didn't want to know where the Headmaster's confidence in the people he employed came from.

For another thing, Alastor was starting to wonder if Albus  _had_  employed anyone, despite his words. Alastor, being the DADA professor, was working in the castle nowadays, and he had yet to come across any foreign people situated in Hogwarts. Where were these people of Albus'? Unless, of course, they managed to hide from his magical eye, but it was a long, long time since anyone managed that, especially with Alastor actively vigilant after that last demon attack.

"Albus is getting old," the retired-Auror finally murmured to himself, flooing back to his quarters in Hogwarts for the night. His wards washed over him as he walked through the fireplace.

Instead of heading straight to bed, the man detoured towards his study table, grabbing a quill and some parchment along the way. The man dipped his quill into a bottle of ink, quickly sketching out a growing letter, his disapproval of the Headmaster fresh on his mind. Dumbledore might seem to think he knew what he was doing, but Moody was not just going to sit around and watch the old fool's plans fall apart.

There were Aurors against wizards, and Hunters against demons for a reason. They were professionals in their respective fields. And while Alastor would admit some Aurors were absolute idiots, they still knew their jobs, and he could count on them to  _eventually_  do it right. That was better than the general public, who would flail and make fools of themselves before the fight even begun.

Eventually, the man finished up his letter, rolling it up and calling his owl by the window. He stared grimly after it as it flew off into the night.

There was one Demon Hunter he knew he could trust. It had been a while, but if there was anyone Alastor would depend on, it was him. The man left his profession and the wizarding world, years back. Still, Alastor knew the man's sense of duty; he wouldn't stay back if there was something he could do to help, and that was what Alastor was counting on.

If Dumbledore wasn't going to call a Demon Hunter, then Alastor would. For all they knew, there could already be demons lurking in Hogwarts. He couldn't take the chance. "Constant Vigilance." He muttered to himself, getting to bed. Albus should know better.

* * *

**Later, somewhere much, much further away…**

With a soft fluttering of feathers, an owl landed on a tree outside a domestic house. In his talons, he held a letter written on creamy parchment paper. It hopped along the branches, peeking into the windows of the home. When he spotted someone moving inside, he swept off onto the windowsill, and pecked furiously on the pane of the glass.

It took a little while, but a young teen finally opened the window, extending a hand out. The teen glanced at the letter as he took it from the owl, and promptly took both the letter and owl upstairs.

The teen knocked on the door to his father's study. "Father, there's a letter for you," the ten said, waving the parchment in his hand.

The man didn't look up, busying typing out documents. "Really? I thought I checked the post this morning?"

"An owl, I mean," the teen corrected, and just as he expected, his father jolted up in shock. The man leaped from his chair and reached out towards the letter. "Mum looked shocked at seeing an owl," the teen added idly as he handed it over.

The father faltered for a second, silently promising himself to deal with that later, before glancing at the letter in his hand. The man frowned at the familiar writing, wondering the identity of the sender. He'd all but sworn the wizarding world when his late wife died, and he rarely received any letters from them ever since, if ever.

What could be so important? The man broke the wax seal, and read.

_My old friend,_

_It's been a while. I am aware you no longer take note of the goings of the wizarding world, but much has occurred, and you would be a fool to refuse knowledge of recent affairs, especially during such dire times._

_Allow me to enlighten you of the return of the Dark Lord, Voldemort. The Minister, Rufus Scrimgeour, officially declared it earlier in June of this year. I am aware of your desire to keep your family away for their safetly, and I wouldn't be asking you to come back in any other circumstance, however, we have received word that Voldemort is now recruiting demons._

_You were one of the damn finest Demon Hunter I knew back in the day. I would appreciate it greatly if you would consider lending your expertise. Wizards nowadays are not prepared to battle against demons of any form, or are even aware of them. The Auror program has long scrapped out their course on demons, and don't get me started on fragile wizards of this generation._

_I am not forcing you to accept, but think of all the children and broken families that will result. If things get bad, it might even affect your own. Take time to consider and owl me. If you agree, you might be the key hope against Voldemort's new demon allies._

_In the meantime, dispose of this letter as soon as possible._

_-Alastor Moody_

The man gave a sigh, folding up the letter. He crossed the room back to his desk, pulling open a bottom drawer and reaching into the back to pull out a hidden wand. The man stared at it with a sigh. Well, this was a problem indeed.

* * *

Up in the Spirit World around the same time, ogres scurried about delivering papers. They skirted around Koenma's office, wary of the Prince's wrath, especially now of all times. In his office, Koenma was moaning in despair, littered with instances of anger and fury. The only one brave enough to endure the Prince's temper was a blue-haired ferrygirl.

"This is bad… this is so bad!" Koenma wailed, tossing piles of papers from his desk.

"Maybe it's just misplaced?" Botan suggested.

Koenma groaned out loud, burying his face into his hands. "It's not misplaced, Botan! That book was kept in a special vault." Koenma looked up, eyes frantic at the hinghsight. "I should have known that demon riot was more than it seem!"

Botan gave a strained smile, trying to sound optimistic. "Maybe the riot didn't have to do with it. How do you know the book wasn't stolen before then?" the girl asked hopefully.

The Prince only shook his head. "Our ogres and ferrygirls were rushing like mad for days trying to set things right after the break in the barrier. It's the largest break since Yusuke's attack on it, and at least then demons weren't fighting their way through to the human world. The castle was empty with everyone tending the damages - it was a golden opportunity, and I highly doubt it was merely a coincidence." Koenma rubbed his temples, feeling a headache developing, "If I hadn't had George do an inventory check, I wouldn't have found out until it was too late."

He groaned into his little hands, "My father is going to kill me. First the three dark treasure of the Underworlds, and now this!"

"Yusuke helped you get those three treasures back, didn't he?" Botan said helpfully. "I'm sure you can get the book back too."

"The treasures were dangerous, but this book is on a whole different level," Koenma said, low and dark like the beginning of a dreadful premonition.

The girl froze. "Lord Koenma," she said warily and slow, holding on to the little calmness she had left. "What book was stolen?"

"The  _Koumajyutsu_ ," Koenma replied, letting the word seep into the silence and hold the girl rigid in fear, "Demon summoning." The ferry-girl paled at his words. In the next second, the young Lord's voice held command once more as he gave his orders to his subordinate, the gravity of the situation biting away the dread the Prince felt. "Botan, report it to Kurama. Tell him to keep his eyes out for the book. We need to know if that Voldemort has it or not. And if not, who does."

In haste, Botan nodded, rushing out of the room. By the time she reached Kurama and fed him this new information, it turned out the redhead already knew.

Voldemort was days ahead of the game.


	7. The Setup

The morning found the Golden trio huddled in a circle by the corner of the living room, heads bent together. Harry was hissing fervently to them, trying to relay everything of the vision he remembered from the night before. The visions had mostly stopped appearing after Harry's battle with Voldemort in the Ministry last year. Voldemort realised the dangers of leaving the link open – but, of course, no matter how hard the Dark Lord tried to portray otherwise, he was only human; he was not infallible, so his control occasionally slipped during times of strong emotion. Harry could still remember the elated feelings transmitted through their link. "I found out what the Professors were hiding. Voldemort has demons on his side, and I think he's planning to send more."

Hermione blinked slowly, trying to wrap her head around the truth of the Winter Ball assault. "You certain, Harry?" the girl wondered apprehensively.

"I'm sure. Voldemort sent demons on us!" Harry said.

There was a continuous flicker of confusion in the depths of Hermione's eyes. " _Demons_ ," she repeated slowly, like tasting the word and hating every second of it. Her mind was running miles a minute. "I'm pretty certain it couldn't have been," she finally concluded.

"What the bloody hell are demons?" Ron interjected.

"They're classified as dark creature – particularly strong and thrive on power fights." Hermione mentally flipped through the library of books stored in her memory, gnawing on her lower lip as she thought. "I haven't found any texts detailing anything deeper than that. I think I've read something about specialised Hunters devoted to hunting down demons, so I assumed demons are different from other dark creatures."

"That doesn't explain why you won't believe Voldemort sent them!" Harry insisted heatedly.

"I'm not doubting you, Harry," Hermione promised, placing a pacifying hand on his shoulder, "It just seems so incredible. Everything I've read about them seems to indicate that demons and humans don't get along. Demons are brutish creatures, destroying everything in sight, and they especially appear to enjoy harming humans. I just don't see how Voldemort would manage to get them to listen to him!"

Ron snorted. "Because he's not human either," the teen sniggered.

"Not helping, Ron."

"We would know if the Order let us in on the meeting!" Harry's hand gestured violently to accentuate his point. He turned away from his friends, glaring into the open room like he expected the Headmaster to appear before them on demand. "I can't believe Professor Dumbledore left as soon as it was over."

"He's busy. He has a whole school to run too," Hermione placated, though slightly peeved herself as well, but she kept it in better. "At least they know about the demons. Professor Snape was there - I'm sure he told them about it."

"Good for them!" Harry snarked, "But they're trying to keep me in the dark again! If I didn't get a vision, I wouldn't have known what was going on, and they wouldn't have told me! Again!" The moment his rant started, he couldn't stop. Harry couldn't help recalling his frustration from last year – if he'd only been informed, then he wouldn't have headed out into a trap, and Sirius wouldn't have died. Harry was the one Voldemort was after, so why wouldn't they let him know anything?

"Harry-"

"Because keeping me in the dark worked out  _so well_  last time!" the teen snapped hotly.

There was a creak of the floorboards behind the trio. Harry's jaw snapped shut immediately at the foreign sound, whirling around, arm held tense on reflex. Two identical gangly forms invaded his vision. "Harry, Harry, why so red?" George said, grin splitting on his face. "We could hear you from down the hall."

"Our Ronnikins being a bother again?" Fred joined in, slinging an arm around their young brother.

Ron glared at the two, shrugging Fred off. "Oi, you know that's not why!" he retorted, before quickly demanding, "What happened in the meeting?"

Fred waved a hand, speaking airily, "I can't really say, brother dearest."

"Maybe when you're older," George added condescendingly, "Can't have you ickle-kiddies scared of sleeping at night."

"We know what Voldemort's up to," Harry cut in, face set in a serious expression, no mood for the ping pong teasing that defined the Weasley twins. " _Demons_."

The twins shared a glance. Their faces sobered up considerably at the dreaded word, but they didn't directly confirm Harry's claim. "So then why are you asking us?" they asked instead, eyebrow raised.

"What is Professor Dumbledore doing about it?" Hermione demanded, questions flowing from her lips, clearly on her mind since the topic came up. "The Professors told us they were updating the wards over the Break, but that was about some imaginary creature, not demons. Are they still upgrading the wards? Rather, are there wards against demons? They seem to be a different subset of dark creatures considering there are specialised Demon Hunters against them. And speaking of Hunters –"

"Yeah, yeah," Fred cut in, slapping a hand over her mouth. "We get it."

"So what's going on?" Harry demanded.

The twins paused in unison for a few long minutes. Eventually, they moved to check that the coast was clear and leaned in. "Mad-Eye brought up Hunters," George admitted lowly, "but it seemed like Dumbledore was against it. Apparently he already hired someone else. It was all pretty vague, to be honest," the ginger shrugged.

"Wait – who? Who did he hire?"

"Hire for what?" an innocent voice cut in from behind them.

Harry's heart leapt to his throat. "Merlin!" Ron cried, while the twins clutched dramatically at their hearts.

"Where did you sneak in from?" Fred exclaimed.

By the far end of the living room, Kurama leaned by the frame of the doorway, casually standing as he waited for them to finished. There was a mischievous stretch on his lips. "Sneak? I wouldn't say sneak; I walked here," he said with mirth. "Is there a problem?"

"No!" Harry rushed out quickly, "You just scared us. We were just discussing –"

"- jokes!" Ron finished to Harry's fumbling excuse. "Fred and George own a joke shop."

"They want to hire an assistant!" Harry added.

Kurama gave an undaunted smiled to their rambling words - he seemed so free of suspicion Harry almost felt guilty for lying. "Is that so?" Kurama said, turning towards the twins, "You must be Fred and George. I noticed your pictures at the Burrow. It's nice to meet you. I'm Shuuichi Minamino."

"We heard," Fred grinned, studying the teen, "Harry's spontaneous cousin."

" _Spontaneous_ ," Kurama repeated wryly.

"Spontaneous," he agreed. "Never heard Harry had another cousin other than that whale. What else do you call someone who appears out of nowhere?" Fred said, playfully elbowing the other teen.

"That's what I said," Ron muttered under his breath, "Appeared out of  _nowhere_." He shot a glared over at the Japanese teen, to which Kurama courteously ignored. It was a thing of the norm for Ron to shoot retorts at him under his breath by now. It was for both Kurama and Harry's best interest to ignore them.

"Fred and George own Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes in Diagon Alley," Harry explained to his cousin, talking over Ron's mumbling voice.

"Founded, own, and run," Fred corrected. Kurama vaguely recalled the colourful shop in the Alley, but they hadn't gone in during their shopping trip.

"Couldn't have done it without you, Harry," George added. "Harry here gave us our start-up loan," the man told Kurama gleefully, "Our dreams for a joke shop wouldn't have flourished without him."

The twins playfully tussled Harry's raven locks when the teen smiled bashfully at them, moving away when he then glowered at the action. "And on that note, we should get going," Fred declared, breaking off from the group. "The shop's not going to run itself!"

Harry snagged one of the twins by the robe before he could get away. "Wait, what about … ?" he murmured quietly, cutting himself off at the end and tilting his head pointedly in lieu of any incriminating words, mindful of his cousin standing behind them.

The twins understood his question all the same. "We told you all we knew," they said apologetically. "We don't know who – you should have seen Mad-Eye, he was furious." With that, and a mocking a salute that served as a wave, Fred tugged his robe from Harry's loose grasp and clambered towards the fireplace. The Weasley twins were gone in a flash of green fire.

Kurama smiled mutedly, eyeing the remaining children. He had a fair idea of what transpired in the room before his arrival; somehow Harry knew what the Order of the Phoenix meeting had been about. Kurama didn't know how the kid knew, nor how to feel about the fact that Harry knew. From what Kurama had seen, Harry was the sort of kid who actively sought out trouble. He wasn't sure if knowledge of these new adversaries would keep Harry away from trouble, or head-first deep into it.

After the twin's departure, the four teens made their way to the dining room, eager for breakfast. There were three others already there when they entered. On one side of the long wooden dining table sat a wearily man with greying brown hair, dressed in shabby yet well-kept robes. To his side was a young lady with bubble-gum pink hair, talking animatedly with him, eyes full of life and energy.

A bit further away, slumped in his seat, clearly asleep despite the rowdiness of the dining room was yet another man. He was sloppy looking, reeking of tobacco and cheap booze.

Kurama discreetly scrunched up his nose at his first sniff of the man. Even across the table from him, the smell clouded his senses, washing over him like a dirty alley way.

From the door which led to the kitchens, Mrs. Weasley trudged in. "There you are! Where have you been? Ginny's long finished and headed up to start her homework," she chided the kids.

"Sorry Mum," Ron said for the group as they scrambled their way onto the free chairs.

With a motherly tsk on her lips, Molly flicked her wand and four plates sailed through the air onto the table in front of them. It was only by magic that the bacon, eggs and toast remained anchored the whole journey. "Here you go dears. Eat while it's warm," Molly urged.

Ron dung in immediately and the other three followed suit in a more sedated pace. Molly scuttled back into the kitchen once more before the man sitting with them in the dining room spoke up. "Hello, I don't believe we've been introduced," he said towards Kurama after he murmured a quick, collective _Good Morning'_  to the four teens. "I'm Remus Lupin, and this is –"

"Wotcher. Call me Tonks."

"-yes. And that's Mundungus Fletcher over there asleep," the man finished.

"Shuuichi Minamino," Kurama offered, "Pleasure."

"I didn't know you two were still here," Harry said to the adults after introductions were finished.

"It was getting late last night, so a few of us stayed over. I'm surprise you didn't wake up with all the noise Tonks was making," Remus said with a tease note attached to the end.

"Remus!" the woman cried, giving the man a light push on the shoulder. "I wasn't that clumsy!"

Remus shot her a smile before turning to the kids once more. "So I hear you've just been introduced to the wizarding world," the man said amicably to Kurama, pulling the teen into the conversation, "How's that been for you so far?"

"It's been overwhelming, I must say."

"It must be quite the eye-opener; a whole world hidden from the muggles."

Kurama agreed with a nod, "It was unexpected. Thankfully Harry has been wonderful in helping me get acquainted with the magical aspects."

The raven-haired teen beamed beside him. "I couldn't leave my cousin alone."

There was a startled jolt in Remus and Tonk's expression at Harry's words. "Cousin?" Remus parroted, eyes latching onto Shuuichi's appearance more intently than ever.

Harry looked confused. "Yeah? Why?"

"You – you're Shiori's son?" the man asked Kurama directly, breezing past Harry's question. Remus' voice was coloured with surprise and hints of disbelief.

Kurama studied the older man for familiarity, but found none. "Yes," he finally said, holding his tone even, "Did you know my mother?"

"I haven't heard from her in such a long time. I thought-" The man's eyes lingered on the teen's face, drifting along his outline and slowing around the shape of Shuuichi's eyes and jaws. There was a reminiscent smile on Remus' lips, clearly seeing what he'd been seeking. "James was two things during our juvenile years – a prankster and an over-doting older brother. I heard him gushing on about his sister almost as much as he went on about Lily when he later grew infatuated by her. We met Shiori whenever we went over to the Potter Manor to sleepover as kids."

There was curiosity gleaming in Shuuichi's emerald eyes. "It sounds like there are stories to be told there," he said sincerely, in a subtle urging for tales of Remus' childhood. If he couldn't hear them from Shiori, Remus was second best.

"Oh, yes-" Remus began.

"Wait," Harry suddenly interjected, stretching out the word until it match his confusion. "You didn't know Shuuichi was my cousin?"

Remus glanced over at Tonks, as if suddenly uncertain of himself, before shaking his head. "We didn't know, Harry," he said. "The Headmaster mentioned you had a friend over, but he called him family friend of the Potters." Which, in a way, wasn't exactly a lie – it did, however, downplay their familiarity with each other. Kurama had a feeling it was to keep him as forgettable as possible. A friend of Harry was nothing new, but if news got out he was Harry's  _cousin_ , there would be a spotlight over Shuuichi that he couldn't hide from. Clearly Dumbledore took that thought into account.

Beside him, Harry mulled it over to himself. "Was I not supposed to tell you he was family?" the teen finally muttered, grimacing to himself.

Remus could only shrug. "Perhaps. I suppose Albus had his reasons?" he proposed, looking over at Shuuichi to see if he could contribute.

"Safety?" Kurama suggested simply.

Hermione nodded at the idea. "That makes sense. Being family would make you a target, and the less people know of your close relationship with Harry the safer you'll be from Harry's enemies."

"Or maybe he doesn't believe Shuuichi's  _really_  family," Ron shot in.

"Ron!" Hermione hissed over.

Tonks blinked. "Uhh-"

"Ignore him," Harry uttered in an exasperated grumble, rolling his eyes. The teens were used to it by now, but Remus and Tonks didn't know. Harry didn't want them to misunderstand. "Ron's just being a prat."

The ginger scowled and turned back to his breakfast. Kurama held a smile on his face. "Anyways," he interrupted steering the conversation away. "I was wondering if it isn't inconvenient for me to go explore around the muggle area? It's the first time I'm in Great Britain," he said, projecting all appearances of an excited tourist.

There was a silent conversation between the Golden trio – mainly consisting of Harry and Hermione shooting warning glances at Ron. Said teen was likely considering adding some remark about sneaking away to pass on information, but wisely held his tongue.

"Well, it's not forbidden …" Remus began.

"We can take him," Harry volunteered. "We know our way around, right Hermione?"

The girl nodded, but Remus frowned over at them. "Perhaps it would be better if either myself or Tonks escorted him instead, Harry."

"Moony!"

"I'm not trying to lock you in, but you  _are_  rather recognisable. And neither of you are allowed magic outside of school should anything occur."

"It's just muggle London!"

"Just to be safe."

With a little more arguing, eventually it was decided Shuuichi would leave with Tonks. "How's that any less noticeable?" Harry sulked, gesturing vaguely at their respective hair colours. Shuuichi's hair was bright red and eye-catching on a normal day, but combined with Tonk's pink hairdo, they were doubly vivid.

"Not a worry!" Tonk winked. In an instant her hair flopped into a dull brown colour. "How's that?"

"Incredible," Kurama whispered. He'd wondered why anyone would dare to dye their hair bubble-gum pink of all colours, not to mention how she managed to dye it so evenly across her head. The fact that Tonks could change it so easily explained a lot. "Is it limited to your hair?" the teen asked curiously. Kurama could imagine how useful that skill would've been during his bandit days. He could have easily disguise himself as one of the guards with a single thought and slip in and out without resorting to sneaking in the shadows.

"I'm a metamorphmagus," Tonks explained proudly, and then cheerfully morphed her lips. "I can change my appearance at will," she warbled out between a duck beak.

"A heritage talent?" Kurama asked, mildly disappointed. Even more-or-less retired, a thief would always be a thief at heart.

"So I've heard, but it tends to skip generations often. I'm one of the few alive in a couple centuries – _AARGH_!" The two were walking out towards the front door as they conversed. Well,  _had been,_ up until Tonks' shin had a physical greeting with the troll-leg umbrella stand, as usual.

" _Filth! Scum! Begone from here! How dare you sully the house of my fathers -"_

Kurama cringed at Walburga Black's shrieking voice.

"Sorry," Tonks said quietly, covering her ears as she stumbled back onto her feet with the teen's help. "Didn't mean to wake her up."

Remus head popped out from around the corner. "Should I come along?" he asked warily, eyebrow raised, walking towards them. He pulled the curtain around Walburga's portrait shut with a vicious tug, then placed a hand on Tonk's shoulder to steady the woman.

Tonks held her hands to her hips. "I don't need a babysitter, Remus."

"I'm not saying you do," the man placated immediately to her sulking words. "I'm just worried."

"Go watch Harry. He's the one we should worry about. That kid can get into trouble anywhere," Tonks said with a laugh. She waved her hands. "Now shoo. I can take care of this!"

Remus chuckled. Then he turned sharply to Shuuichi, brows furrowing. "What's wrong?" Tonks asked.

"Your scent –" Remus started, before trailing off into nothing. He shook his head. "… no, never mind," he concluded dismissively. Yet despite his words, his face still held a contemplative gaze.

The woman leaned into Shuuichi for a loud sniff. "What, he smell bad?" Tonks chortled.

Shuuichi gave a strained chuckle; he had a feeling he knew what the man was referring to. In the dining room, Kurama's own sense of smell had been overwhelmed by the smoke and booze emanating from Fletcher, in addition to the food. Out here, Kurama could smell the scent of something distinctly wolf-y from the shabby looking man. Kurama hadn't delved deep enough into magical creatures to know for certain, but going by what was common, he supposed Remus was something along the lines of a werewolf. A wolf certainly had better senses than humans, and Kurama suspected Remus could detect hints of his inner fox.

It was intriguing, and slightly worrying.

"Ah, no," Remus denied, quickly waving his hand dismissively. "It was nothing. Sorry." Kurama could still see a contemplative glimmer deep within the werewolf's eyes when he spoke, but the man wasn't pushing the issue. Kurama vaguely recalled hatred amongst the wizarding world towards creatures like werewolves – perhaps Remus was the sort of man who knew better than to make wild speculations, even among friends; he knew what it was like to have secrets ousted. Remus was doubly reluctant because he didn't know  _what_  that secret was either, expect for a vague scent of something fox-y. "I don't want to keep you," Remus said instead. "Don't stay out too late."

"Yes mum," Tonks uttered, rolling her eyes.

* * *

They were on the sidewalk and walking down the street when Tonks spoke up next. "So, where're we headed?" she asked curiously, trying to place a destination to their route.

"The closest muggle school," Kurama said.

Tonks raised an eyebrow at his honest answer. "Really? Bit of a keener, aren't you?" she teased. It was just the start of Winter Break, and Shuuichi couldn't stay away from schools, it seemed. Tonks snorted at the thought. They walked for a little while longer, turning left and right at various crossroads, before Tonks sent an assessing looked over at the redhead. "You don't know where you're going, do you?"

Kurama pulled an apologetic smile for her. "Honestly, not really. I was hoping it wouldn't be that hard to stumble across a school," he murmured guiltily.

"You should've told me! What kind of escort am I if I make you bumble around?" Tonks slid out her wand from the holster under her sleeve, holding it up in the air. Within a second, with a loud  _bang,_  a purple triple-decker bus appeared in front of the two. Kurama studied the vehicle warily – either it had been travelling invisible this whole time, or moving too fast for the eye to see. The latter of those possibilities sounded dangerous, to be honest.

Nevertheless, he stepped onto the bus, following Tonks lead when she did so, trusting she knew what she was doing. The enchantments weaved on the bus repelled the gazes of the muggles in the area.

There was a young man standing by the doors as they opened. He was in a purple uniform that matched almost identically with the exterior of the bus. The man, twenty at most, grinned at them and chatted animatedly, mainly at Kurama, likely noticing he was a new face. "My name's Stan Shunpike, I'll be your conductor. That's Ernie our driver. Where 'an we take you?"

Tonks offered a sheepish grin. "That's where we hoped you could help us, Stan. We're looking for muggle schools. Know any?"

Stan headed towards the driver's seat, using the poles on the bus to swing himself quickly around. "Know any, Ern?"

"Got a couple in mind," Ernie grunted back, wasting no time.

Tonks dropped some gold for the two of them then made their way deeper onto the bus. There were armchairs littered across the bus floor. Tonks eyed them, shaking her head before Shuuichi could sit down. "I'd hold on instead if I were you," she warned, grabbing on a pole and ignoring the chairs.

With a bang the bus shot off. Kurama watched as the chairs, clearly not bolted onto the floor, slid towards the back and crash into each other. Tonks laughed. Kurama seriously contemplated getting off and taking muggle transit instead.

Eventually, the Knight Bus skid into a stop, chairs tumbling towards them once more. "Prebend Street! Yer stop!" Stan called out towards the two.

When they stepped off the Knight Bus, there was a large building in front of them, three stories high. The school's coat of arms decorating the one of the side with the words  _"City of London Academy, Islington"_  in letter below it.

Tonks glanced briefly at the school. "That work for you?"

Kurama nodded wordlessly, making his way over to it. It would do the job. Kurama entered the building without much fuss, pausing momentarily to tell Tonks he would be out in a few minutes. He quickly charmed the administrators with his amiable personality, spinning lies to learn more about the school and their education program. Kurama listened with half an ear as they explained their sixth form admission policy to him, projecting the appropriate intrigued expression. After a few more inquiries about their curriculum and models of a typical school day, Kurama slipped back outside to Tonks.

"Got what you need?" the woman asked.

"Hopefully," Kurama answered truthfully. He had gone in to research how typical schools in England ran because he highly doubted Hogwarts was a good model for muggle schooling. He'd been putting off writing letters to his mother, for this reason exactly. There had only been so much he could find online, and lately his access to computers had been non-existent. He knew that vague words of wellness wouldn't work forever. Eventually, his family would begin asked specific questions about the school he was attending, and until now, Kurama knew nothing about English schools. Unless, of course, he talked about Hogwarts, but that place was weird by muggle standards, and definitely not a name that produced results if googled, should his parents suddenly decided to try to find out more about the school themselves.

"Do you know any place I can rent a postal box nearby?" Kurama added.

Tonks blinked, surprised at the teen's question. "Owls can travel internationally," she said. "It takes a little longer than usual, but they can make to …" Tonks tapped her lips in thought, "Japan, right?" she confirmed hopefully.

Kurama nodded. "I heard," he said agreeably, "But my family is used to muggle methods than owls. I don't want to scare them." Truthfully, Kurama had a feeling his mother might be used to them, especially if she was a squib. But Kurama was trying to actively hide the fact he was going to a magical school from her, so owls were out of the question. A rented mailbox was necessary in order to acquire a return address from his family to send letters to.

Honestly though, Kurama didn't expect many letters – he'd spend months during the Dark Tournament and on his impromptu 'camping trips' with Yusuke and the gang without contact with his mother, and she never minded before. Still, considering he would be away for the year this time, instead of mere months, she would want to get in touch sooner or later.

Kurama had considered asking Dumbledore to assist in renting one while he was still in Hogwarts, but judging by the way the man was wizard through-and-through, he had a feeling it would cause more complications than he wanted unless he did it in person.

Tonks accepted the flimsy excuse without question. "Okay," she said, and shrugged, "We can look around. Planning to send a letter to your parents soon?"

Judging from his past excursions, Kurama suspected it would be a while before Shiori started worrying. Kurama was a dependable teen; there was no reason why she would need to contact him so soon. Still, better safe than sorry. "As soon as I can rent a box," he told her.

"Alright," Tonks said, "let's get looking!"

.

.

* * *

Kazuya Hatanaka got off work at five o'clock sharp, locking away the unfinished documents in his briefcase to take home to finish. That was the good thing about being president of the small company – he didn't have to worry about being forced to stay for overtime. He stepped into the building elevator and out the underground doors without much thought as his body moved on autopilot. He was turning the corner of a cement pillar to where his car was parked when a gruff voice echoed from behind him.

"Kazuya," it said, pronouncing his name in a decidedly English accent.

The man's heart leapt to his chest and his hand whipped out on instinct. In front of him, two mismatched eyes regarded his actions with approval. Kazyuha let out a shaky breath in relief. "Alastor," the Japanese man murmured, lowering his hand.

The Ex-Auror nodded, "Good response; I was afraid you got rusty over the years."

Kazuya chuckled, before looking pointedly at the wand Alastor still had trained on his person. "Do you mind?" he asked warily, changing to English to match the other man.

"That depends," the Alastor countered seriously, "What is your Patronus form?"

"Still paranoid as ever?" Kazuya couldn't help teasing, shaking his head. "That is a trick question, isn't it Alastor?" At the older man's silence, Kazuya continued. "The last time we met, it was in the form of a sparrowhawk. Since my late wife's death and my marriage to Shiori, it is now a marten."

It was with that Alastor's wand lowered as well. "I assumed your Patronus would have changed since your wife's death," the man said with a nod, "If you'd replied with sparrowhawk…" he let the sentence trail off threateningly.

Kazuya laughed at the predictable actions of his old friend. He beckoned the man towards his car a second later. "Shall we talk along the way? My wife is expecting me home."

Alastor eyed the vehicle in contemplation. Kazuya had a feeling he knew what thoughts were whirling through the other man's mind. "It's safe," Kazuya reassured him quickly, ushering the man along. "Unless you feel like walking back," he suggested, knowing that idea was even less desirable. For one thing, Alastor stood out among muggles with his multiple scars, wooden leg, and vivid blue magical eye. At least the man was more proficient than most wizard at dressing appropriately, if that was any consolation.

It took a while before Kazuya finally managed to convince the man into his car and strap on his seatbelt. The man allowed him to drive out of the underground parking lot before Alastor spoke once more. "You're carrying your wand around again?" the Ex-Auror said pointedly, more of a statement than a question.

Kazuya nodded. "I haven't touched it for years." Ever since Alastor's letter, Kazuya couldn't help slipping back into the habit of taking it with him out in public. Alastor's words had been worrying – if the Dark Lord truly was back, how certain was Kazuya the man's band of evil would stay contained in Great Britain? It was better to walk around with his wand and never use it, rather than be defenseless should any danger arise.

Somehow, despite the lack of recent use, his body still remembered how to weld his wand. It was reflex that had Kazuya whipping out his wand when Alastor appeared unannounced behind him. There had been a spell on his lips, ready as ever, despite the long years since he'd ever uttered any.

"You never forget," Alastor responded to Kazuya internal musings, reading every thought on the Japanese man's face. "I take it you thought about my letter."

Kazuya let out a huff. "It's hard not to consider it when you try to make me feel guilty should I refuse." The man shook his head, "'… _think of all the children and broken families that will result … it might even affect your own',"_ he recited, having read Alastor's letter enough times to regurgitate it word-for-word.

"Well…" Alastor said casually, undaunted by the pointed glare his friend shot at him. As far as Alastor was concerned, all tactics were valid. "It caught your attention."

Kazuya let out a breath of a laugh, but nevertheless forgave the other man. That was how Alastor had always been like, and Kazuya never expected him to change in the first place. "So demons, you say?" the man continued, drawing back to the topic.

"I wouldn't be surprised by a demon army," Alastor admitted in his distinctive growling voice.

Kazuya let himself frown over at Alastor when the car rolled to a stop in front of a red light. "An army?" he wondered, mostly to himself. He cocked his head thoughtfully, "From what I've inferred of demons, they're mostly independent creatures." He tapped the steering wheel thoughtfully.

"Voldemort, despite his misgivings, is a powerful wizard," Alastor allowed reluctantly.

Kazuya hummed in response. "Demons are rather sparse. I don't think I've ever come across a large group of them together. But I suppose if banding together would strengthen them, they might." The man glanced over at Alastor out of the comer of his eye as he drove. "Most always considered demons as rather strong but mindless beast, always ready for a brawl. But the Japanese have a different take on them. There are countless Japanese legends depicting demons to be much more intelligent than what most Demon Hunters are taught to believe." Kazuya gave a shrug, "I suppose the demons most Hunters come across dispute these speculations, but legends have to come from somewhere, right?"

"Your point?"

Kazuya laughed. "Always straight to the fact," he said in amusement before quickly continuing on, "Your suggestion of them forming an army under Voldemort might be true if he shows them he is powerful enough, regardless of the fact that Voldemort is only human. Demons are not just snarling, aggressive beasts with an aptitude for fighting; they have minds for thinking and considering the choices and tactics laid before them. If Voldemort convinces them that working with him will allow them cause more havoc, have more fun, they will consider it, despite they usual solitary habits."

"You would know," Alastor said with a nod, "That's more on the subject than anyone else can contribute."

Kazuya gave a strained smile at the praise. "I know you're trying to convince me to come and help, but you understand I have my own family to take care of as well?"

Alastor grunted. "Your son." He thought for a second, calculating the years, "He's twelve? He's more than welcome to attend Hogwarts while you're over there if you drop word to Albus. I'm aware he's a wizard as well."

"Thirteen," Kazuya corrected casually. "Shuichi," he added.

Alastor paused thoughtfully at the name, eyebrow raised. "Shuichi, huh. Popular Japanese name?"

Kazuya couldn't say, but then again his step-son was also a Shuuichi, so that might be true. It was written differently, but Kazuya had a feeling it all sounded the same the English speakers. "Relatively popular, I suppose," he said at the non sequitur, not bothering to question the odd tangents his friend went off into. "I've hired a tutor to teach Shuichi magic," he continued on topic, "We've been hiding it from the family in the guise of supplementary school lessons. I haven't told them about my wizard heritage."

"No time like the present," Alastor countered idly.

Kazuya burst out in a quick chuckle, trying to hold back the bitterness that the idea brought along with it. "Everything is so easy for you, isn't it?" The man let out a sigh as he slowed down his car, "I'm afraid of how they'll react," Kazuya said, thinking about his fragile, kind-hearted wife and her hard-working, devoted son. "When I met Shiori, she had been dangerously ill – she was admitted to the hospital not a few months after our meeting. I didn't want to burden her with tales of witches and wizards. We became so close. And when she got better, I just kept putting it off because I couldn't stand the idea of losing Shiori if the thought of magic scared her."

There was silence in the car as Alastor let Kazuya contemplate. The car turned into the neighbourhood, and eventually up the driveway to Kazyuha's house before Alastor spoke once more. "There is still time, Kazuya," the man said as the two of them stepped out. The Ex-Auror turned an eye towards the house while Kazuya locked up. "If you love your wife as much as you do, you would tell her."

Kazuya gave a weary smile. "I'll think about it."

Alastor gave a low hum but didn't speak, turning towards the house instead as the door opened. Shiori stood by the entrance to greet them, a smile on her face. The smile turned to confusion at the sight of Alastor.

"Welcome home, Kazuya," the woman said softly, "I wasn't aware we had a guest."

"This is Moody Alastor," Kazuya introduced, "And Alastor, this is my wife Shiori."

"It's nice to meet you," Shiori said, giving a short bow. "I'll prepare tea-"

"I'm not staying," Alastor interrupted in clunky Japanese before the woman could speak anymore. "Thanks for the invitation though, Hatanaka-san," he added, minding his manners around his friend's wife, because as rude as he could be around acquaintances, he  _did_  know better.

Shiori didn't look the slightest upset by the interruption. "Oh, please, do call me Shiori. It's no bother if you come in for tea," she invited pleasantly again, against the man's words.

"I had something to discuss with you husband," Alastor deterred, "We've finished up now."

The Ex-Auror trailed off, distracted by a flicker of something black moved from the corner of his magical eye. Alastor's frowning face deepened, but he didn't move, only tilting his head so that the movements of his whirling eye wouldn't catch Shiori's attention. "Did you know," Alastor began, mostly to Kazuya, "there's a boy up in your tree?"

There was a large oak tree planted in the front yard of the Hatanaka household. Despite the cold season, the tree still held on tight to its wilting leaves, providing shadowy foliage for the boy to hide behind. Still, Alastor's magical eye could see through doors - the thin veil of leaves was nothing compared to that.

Kazuya startled, right hand twitching behind his long sleeves. Shiori on the other hand, clapped her hands together in delight. "Oh, that must be Hiei-kun," she said casually. "He's Shuuichi's friend," she added to Alastor, so utterly calm and pleasant.

The Ex-Auror raised an eyebrow at Kazuya. The man's thirteen-year-old must be an odd one if his friends scaled trees often enough for Shiori to be used to it. He watched as the woman made her way to the trunk of the tree, staring upwards, speaking in a gentle voice.

"I'm afraid Shuuichi isn't here, Hiei-kun," she said, "Didn't he tell you he had a scholarship-" the woman continued.

Alastor gave a nod to Kazuya while his wife was distracted. "I'll be heading off now."

"Before Shiori manages to convince you to stay?" Kazuya teased knowingly.

Sometime between Alastor hobbling out of their sight, and Hiei disappearing from their tree once more, Shiori suddenly remembered her husband's guest. "Oh dear," she murmured, looking around for the missing man, "How rude I must have seemed."

"Nonsense dear," Kazuya corrected, "Alastor is quite anti-social."

Shiori frowned worryingly, "And how is he getting home? Walking?"

"He's parked nearby," Kazuya lied. There was a sudden loud  _crack_  – it may have been from blocks away, but in a neighborhood as quiet as theirs, it sounded as loud as if it were right there beside them. Shiori jumped as the noise echoed past. "Ahh, someone's car must have backfired," Kazuya hastily suggested.

Shiori's eyes narrowed, ignoring her husband's halting hold as she slipped past him and onto the street. She looked both ways, staring down as far as she could see, but was gifted with the sight of a long, empty road. "Moody-san is gone," she said wonderingly.

"Ah, he walks rather fast."

"With that leg of his?" Shiori said skeptically, because she hadn't missed the wooden stump the man had on, nor the way he slowly hobbled as he walked.

"Well…" Kazuya tried to begin, fumbling for a plausible lie.

His wife interrupted him. Shiori's eyes were shinning suddenly, a revelation dawning in them. She looked searchingly at Kazuya before she spoke, choosing her words carefully. "It sounded more like _Apparition_  than a car to me," she corrected.

Kazuya's eyes widened. "You know!" he cried out before he could help himself.

Shiori was standing tense before him when she had spoken earlier. At Kazuya's confirmation, she wilted into a relaxed state, glad her gamble paid off. A second later she broke off into a giggle. "I knew I saw an owl the other day!" she said with a thrilled jump. "I think we've been hiding the same secret from each other."

Kazuya joined her laughter when the thought hit him as well. "Well," he finally managed out when they winded down, "How about we talk about this openly once and for all?" He led the two of them back into the house for some well-needed privacy. "It seems we both have a lot to talk about."

"Yes we do."

* * *

Kazuya called his son down when he and his wife settled in their living room. The thirteen-year-old had been doing his homework in his room, door closed, ears covered with his blaring music, before his father interrupted him. It was no wonder the kid had no idea what had occurred minutes prior.

When the teen reached the living room, he stared between his parents, eyes studying them warily. His mother looked giddy and pleased. His father was crossed between amusement and exasperation. Shuichi wasn't sure what to look forward to.

"What's wrong?" Shuichi finally said when it was clear neither of the two grinning adults before him would talk.

"It turns out there more to your mother than we expected," Kazuya replied cryptically.

Shuichi suddenly knew.

The thought of hiding his magic from his family had made Shuichi both guilty and nervous. It was surprisingly easy to fall in love with this new family of his. Shiori was the mother he always wanted (especially since he had no memories of his own). Shuuichi was the older brother who made him feel welcomed, and always helped him whenever he asked. He was wise and popular, and Shuichi couldn't help looking up to him. So, it was no surprise he wanted to share his secret them; but like his father, he couldn't get past the worry deep in his stomach if their confession went sour. He hated the thought of his step-mother and step-brother becoming scared of him, or heck,  _despising_ him if they found out he wasn't like them.

Shuichi didn't like being forced to lie to his step-mother and step-brother whenever he had his magic lessons. He wanted to brag to his older brother, and watch his face light up when he saw all the things Shuichi could show him. He wanted a deeper bond with his new family, and with a secret life held between them, he felt like it would never happen. And yet, now-

"You're a witch?" Shuichi cried out, sounding more like a demand than a question.

Shiori smiled all the same. "A squib, actually."

"And you know about the wizarding world?" Shuichi continued, relentless.

Shiori stood from her seat on the sofa, making her way towards the thirteen-year-old. "Of course I do. And I hear from your father you've been excelling in your magic lessons." She pulled the teen into a tight hug, expressing every ounce of her love with the embrace. "I'm so proud of you!"

Shuichi pressed into the hold, face beaming with brightness he had been holding back since now. "Thank you, mom!"

"I never would have guessed you were affiliated with the wizarding world with the way you live," Kazuya said, glancing at the decidedly muggle decorations Shiori adorned around their house. The entire style was muggle.

"Squib," Shiori put in, as though that explained everything. To be honest, it truly did. Unlike witches and wizards, squibs were often disowned, thrown to live in the world as muggles. They couldn't charm anything in their home by themselves, and everything magical had to be bought – a hard thing for most squibs if they didn't have any family fortune, or never had been shown the entrance of any magical shopping alleys before they were disowned.

"I was born to an old family Japan," Shiori began, clearing up her history, "When they found out I was a squib, they took me on a trip, far away, dropping me off in a vast countryside and left without another word. I suppose they didn't want to accidentally run into me, _if_ I managed to survive on my own. Eventually, mum and dad found and adopted me when I stumbled onto their summer home. My brother was adamant I stayed with them when he heard my story, and I doubt mum and dad could ever deny James anything. Not that they would've opposed."

"Where did they drop you?" Shuichi asked curiously, while disgust of his mother's birth parents shone clearly in his eyes.

"Somewhere in Yorkshire, apparently," the woman replied.

Kazuya choked at her words, forcing down a surprised laugh. "In England?" He elaborated when she looked over, "My family emigrated from Japan to England before I was born. We lived in the small magical community in Devon. I met my first wife there, and that was where Shuichi was born. We only moved to Japan when Annabel died – Shuichi was only a few years old at the time – I didn't feel like I could live in a world where I was constantly reminded of her."

Shiori pulled her whole family onto the couch. She smiled lovingly at her husband as she held onto his hand. "I understand," she said. Their family couch was a small little thing. With the three of them crammed on it, they were nearly sitting on top of each other. It was a simple thing in that position for Shiori to pull them all into a tight hug a moment later. "You know," she murmured, "it looked like we were always close to each other even if we never knew it!"

"It must be fate," Kazuya said with a soft laugh.

Eventually, Shuichi wriggled free from their confines. "So, is 'nii-san also a wizard then?" the teen blurted out curiously, the question burning in him since the beginning of his mother's tale.

Shiori shook her head. Shuichi sulked in disappointment. "I always wondered with him, but no, Shuuichi never received an acceptance letter." Shiori wrung her hands ruefully, "and after that, I figured it would probably be for the best if I didn't tell him about the wizarding world."

There was a scandalised look on Shuichi's face at the thought of that. "'Nii-san doesn't know about it at all?"

"No. I figured it would never come up again…" Shiori turned to Kazuya, mind thrown back to the man's acquaintance. "What did Moody-san want?" she asked, wondering if and how it affected the family.

Kazuya hesitated. He looked between Shiori's determined expression and Shuichi's confusion before he finally sighed and relented. As briefly as he could, he summed up Alastor's request for him to return to England to be involved in the fight against the Dark Lord.

Shiori's face was pale when he finished. Kazuya clutched her hand into his own, pulling her close to his chest. "If it scares you, I won't drag you along with me." Because, especially after Alastor's words, Kazuya knew he couldn't stand back and do nothing. Alastor was right, there were not enough wizards with the knowledge of demons, and if Kazuya was capable of helping in this war, he would. It was only a matter of what Shiori and Shuichi would do.

"I'm going too!" Shuichi cried out.

Kazuya wanted to shush his son, but Shiori's tug of his arms drew his attention away. "The Dark Lord in Great Britain? The one who calls himself V-Voldemort?" the woman said shakily. Before Kazuya could answer her, tears were already falling from her eyes as she buried her face into his shirt. "He killed my family. He attacked my brother's family and friends and killed them all," she hissed out. "They tried to hide from him. James was sending me letters – I was already living here by then, and he was my only contact left with the wizarding world – but then one day all communications stopped. I rushed back as soon as I could, but their house was in rubbles, and no one in the neighbourhood could tell me anything about James and his family. I asked about his best friend, but all I got were pitying looks. _He_ killed them all!"

Kazuya wrapped his arms around his wife, whispering soothing words into her ear. Shuichi tried his best to pat his mother's back.

Shiori pushed away unexpectedly, movements sharp and abrupt. "My Shuuichi is in England right now!" she exclaimed at them, a fire suddenly burning in her eyes, behind the redness. "I'm not going to let that man take away more family. If you're going back to help, I'm coming too!"

Kazuya froze at her words. "Wait, Shuuichi - where is Shuuichi studying?" he asked urgently, suddenly fearing for his step-son's survival. If the Dark Lord was back and his Death Eaters active, Shuuichi was in danger as well.

Shiori opened and closed her mouth wordlessly. She blinked blankly at Kazuya for all of a second before her gaze lowered, staring down into her hands. There was a trembled in her voice as she spoke next. "I … I don't know," she finally managed out slowly. "Shuuichi never clarified." Shuuichi's vagueness never bothered her before, but now it was a matter of life and death. The woman scrambled to the phone, only to stop when she realised there was no cell number she could call. "I don't know his boarding address either," she murmured unbelievably to herself when she considered writing him a letter instead. She turned to Shuichi, words rolling frantically off her lips, "Do you know if your brother has an email address?"

Eyes wide, Shuichi shook his head. "I don't know. I never had to email him. If I ever needed 'nii-san for anything, I just go to his room. He left so abruptly I never got to ask."

"Why don't you swing over to Meiou High?" Kazuya cut in helpfully, "I'm sure they keep track of where they send their students, dear. The school administrators could surely help you."

Hardly a second after the words left his mouth, Shiori was already up and about. With a quick peck on the man's cheek, and the jingles of car keys, Shiori left in a hurry.

Back in the living room, Kazuya shared a worried glance with his son. "I hope your brother's fine," he said quietly, disliking the sudden feel of dread creeping up his spine.

Shuichi bobbed his head, faring better than his parents. "He's probably just careless. He can't be perfect  _all_  the time." The teen headed up the stairs, "I'm going into 'nii-san's room. Maybe his email's written somewhere."

Kazuya gave the teen a thanking nod.

* * *

Kazuya's heart leaped to his chest when he picked up the phone and his wife's crying voice carried though. "Shiori, dear, what's wrong," the man fretted, already heading to the front door, shoes on hand and ready to be put on.

"Please pick me up," the woman's voice whispered into the phone. "I don't think I can drive home."

"Where are you," Kazuya demanded. It turned out Shiori was still in Meiou High, by the entrance of the building. With a nod, Kazuya pulled up all his memories back when he was still an active wizard, and apparated to the back of the school with a solid  _crack_. The man scrambled around the building, spotting his wife leaning heavily on the wall.

"Shiori, what happened?" he cried as he scooped her up in his arms.

"Shuuichi," Shoiri said. And before she gave Kazuya enough time to process, she dropped a bombshell onto him. "He quit school."

"What?!" The man shook his head, trying to clear away the shock. "We're talking about Shuuichi, aren't we? He wouldn't do that."

"I know," Shiori murmured, barely heard, "But I asked over and over, and even asked them to show me the official documents. Shuuichi dropped out from school before he left."

"Why?"

The woman shook her head, dropping her face into the crook of Kazuya neck. "I don't know." She looked so vulnerable when she pulled out of his hold, staring the man straight into his eyes. "Did my son lie to me?" she asked in a voice so weak, it reminded Kazuya of the frail woman she had been years ago in the hospital near her death bed. Yet, unlike then, there was no determinate spark in her eyes.

"I'm sure it's a misunderstanding," the man placated as best as he could.

"Shuuichi said he had applied to some sort of international studies with a full scholarship. He was going to be living in a boarding school somewhere in England." Shiori's hand tightened on Kazuya's shirt. "But Meiou High didn't offer any international studies programmes. I asked."

"Perhaps it wasn't a programme within the school?" Kazuya suggested.

"Was he scammed? Is he left swindled and lost in a foreign country? "

"You don't know that!" the man cut in immediately. "This is Shuuichi," Kazuya argued logically, "He knows better than to head blindly into things. And he would definitely contact you if anything was wrong."

"What if he couldn't?"

Kazuya dug into his wife's purse when she absentmindedly handed it over, reaching for the car keys within. He gently maneuvered Shiori's elbow to lead her towards their car. "Calm down. You're letting your imagination run wild," he soothed repeatedly along the way. When he helped Shiori onto the passenger seat, she all but melted into the leather seats.

He leaned in, pressing his lips against her temples. "Shuuichi is fine; he can handle himself."

Shiori pulled at the bottom of her blouse, finger digging into the fabric and stretching it thin. Her eyes were moist, and her voice a trembling mess when she spoke. I broke Kazuya's heart to hear her speak like that. "Where is Shuuichi? Where is my son?! I want my son back!" the woman wailed.

"We will."

Shiori swallowed hard, taking in a deep breath. "We're going to England!" Shiori demanded as sharply as she could over her tears. She would find her son herself.

Kazuya nodded understandingly. He had been thinking the same thing. "We'll leave immediately."

* * *

And hundreds of miles in the air, a letter from the UK slowly made its way to Japan. It was a shame that when it arrived delivered to the Minamino-Hatanaka household, there was no one home to receive it. The whole family, according to the neighbours, left to England for a well needed vacation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note on surnames: Shuichi-chan and his father go by Hatanaka. Shiori's also going by Hatanaka (because Japanese law does not recognize married couples who have different surnames as lawful husband and wife). Shuuichi still goes by Minamino.


End file.
